THROUGH  TEXAS. 


A.    SKRIES    OF 


INTERESTING  LETTERS 


By    WALTER    3*   STEVENS, 


SPECIAL   CORRESPONDENT   OF   THE 


ST.  LOUIS  GLOBE-DEMOCRAT. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


1892. 


,  a,  n  ?>C        INTRODUCTION. 


The  following  letters  appeared  in  the  St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat 
during  the  fall  of'  1892.  Mr.  Walter  B.  Stevens,  the  Globe's 
special  correspondent,  is  one  of  the  most  acute  observers  and 
interesting  writers  on  western  life  and  progress,  and  this  series 
of  interesting  letters,  "Through  Texas,"  has  attracted  widespread 
attention,  and  has  been  read  with  pleasure  and  profit  by  thousands. 
They  present  a  graphic  picture  of  Texas,  its  social  and  industrial 
life  blended  into  charming  narrative. 

There  is  no  exaggeration  of  the  State's  resources;  the  letters 
were  not  written  to  boom  Texas;  only  for  the  information  of. a  large 
and  interested  circle  of  readers.  However,  they  may  be  made  to 
answer  a  double  purpose,  and  those  contemplating  a  change  of 
location,  or  desiring  to  settle  in  a  new  and  growing  country,  will 
find  the  facts  on  the  resources  of  Texas,  with  which  they  are  filled, 
of  great  value. 

With  this  object  in  view,  the  General  Passenger  Department  of 

Missouri  Pacific  Railway  and  Iron  Mountain  Route  has  had 
them  compiled  and  printed  in  this  convenient  form  for  distri- 
bution, in  order  to  meet  the  wide  demand  for  them  from  all  parts 
of  the  country.  Their  reliability  renders  them  indispensable  to  the 
home-seekers,  and  makes  them  a  valuable  hand-book  on  Texas  for 
some  time  to  come. 

Additional  copies  can  be  obtained  from  the  company's  agents, 
or  by  addressing 

H.  C.  TOWNSEND, 
General  Passenger  and  Ticket  Agent,  ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 


oft  Ubrazy 


'£. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


A  SERIES  OF  INTERESTING  LETTERS 


FROM  THE  SPECIAL  CORRESPONDENT  OF  THE 


ST.  Louis  GLOBE-DEMOCRAT. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


A    Story  of  Development  from  $4  an 
Acre  to  $400,000  a  Ranch. 


The  Profits  of  Horse  Breeding— A  Bunch 

of  Galloways— Coach  and  Percheron 

—Cyclone    Cellar    Building— The 

Funniest  Thing  in  the  State. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe- Democrat. 

ANBOBN  RANCH,  TEXAS, 
July  23.— Henry  B.Sanborn, 
New  Yorker,  came  to 
Texas  in  1875  to  introduce 
a  certain  manufacture  of 
barbed  wire.  Not  long 
after  his  arrival  he  bought 
a  piece  of  land  in  Grayson 

,j  4 .  n  rn-m +y     The  price  was  $4 

an  acre.  Later  on  Mr.  Sanborn  bought  other 
pieces.  He  fenced  them  and  put  on  stock.  All 
of  this  time  he  was  carrying  on  his  wire 


agency  and  attending  to  his  regular  business 
at  Houston,  hundreds  of  miles  south.  The 
ranch  was  his  recreation.  It  grew  until  in  one 
compact  body  there  were  10,300  acres.  Select- 
ing the  branches  of  breeding  which  interested 
him  most,  Mr.  Sanborn  gradually  improved 
his  stock  until  his  coach  and  draft  horses  and 
his  thoroughbred  bulls  were  known  to  all 
Texas.  This  Sanborn  ranch,  developed  from 
a  small  beginning  in  the  way  described,  has 
just  passed  into  the  possession  of  a  stock 
company.  The  accepted  valuation  put  upon 
the  property  is  $400,000.  This  is  $25  an  acre,  or 
$260,000  for  the  land  and  $140,000  for  the  stock. 
The  purchasers  are  Shannon  C.Douglass,Judge 
Charles  L.  Dobson  and  other  Missourians. 
Mr.  Sanborn  retains  an  interest  and  agrees  to 
give  the  ranch  his  personal  attention  for  the 
present. 

A  ranch  of  10,300  acres  must  be  traversed 
to  be  appreciated.  A  man  on  a  mowing  ma- 
chine stopped  when  he  came  to  the  end  of  the 
half-mile  swath  to  tell  the  way  to  the  San- 
born place. 

"This,  said  he,  "is  part  of  it  where  we're 
cutting  and  baling  hay .  You  struck  the  ranch 
about  a  half  mile  back.  If  you  want  to  go  to 


the  house,  keep  right  on  down  the  road  till 
you  come  to  a  lane  on  the  left.  That  is  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile.  Turn  up  the  lane 
and  go  till  you  come  to  a  gate  on  the  right. 
That's  about  half  a  mile.  Turn  in  at  the  gate 


ness.  "The  books,"  said  he,  "show  that  the 
sales  of  stock  for  the  year  ending  with  the  1st 
of  this  month  amounted  to  $40,595.65.  The 
sales  for  the  year  ending  July  1,  1891, 
were  $33,470.42;  for  the  year  ending  July  1, 


A    $400,000   RANCH. 


and  follow  the  road.  You'll  come  to  the 
house  in  about  a  mile. ' '  Half  an  hour  after- 
ward the  team,  by  brisk  driving  and  by  per- 
sistent refusals  to  let  the  young  driver 
try  his  Winchester  on  all  of  the  turtle 
doves  sitting  on  telegraph  wires,  pulled 
up  beside  the  big  white  house 
from  the  broad  porch  of  which  Mr.  Sanborn 
was  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed  until  last 
week  he  signed  the  title  deeds.  It  took  nearly 
an  hour  of  good  driving  to  reach  the  house 
after  the  eastern  boundary  was  passed.  And 
the  house  and  outlying  farms  and  stables  are 
about  half  way  on  an  east  and  west  line  across 
the  ranch.  Mr.  Sanborn  can  sit  on  his  porch 
and  see  the  cars  cross  his  line  so  far  away  they 
look  like  toys.  He  can  see  them  grow  larger 
until  they  stop  at  Sanborn  station  on  his  own 
land.  He  can  follow  the  long  trail  of  smoke 
for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  before  the  other 
boundary  is  crossed.  Then  he  can  go  to  his 
back  door  and  just  distinguish  his  own  cattle 


THE   GALLOWAYS. 


looking  about  as  large  as  ants  three  and  four 
miles  away  in  the  direction  opposite  from  the 
railroad.  That  is  what  a  10,000- acre  ranch 
means. 


The  books  of  the  Sanborn  ranch  have  just 
been  summarized  for  the  benefit  of  the  new 
ipany.  With  the  figures  before  him,  Mr. 
Sanborn  frankly  gave  an  insight  into  the  busi- 


1890,  they  were  $23,302.96,  and  for  the  year 
ending  July  1, 1889,  .they  were  $34,308.26.' ' 

"What  does  the  other  side  of  the  balance 
sheet  show,  Mr.  Sanboru  ? ' ' 

"The  expenses  of  operating  this  place  have 
run  from  $12,000  to  $15,000  a  year." 

"How  many  men  do  you  employ  ?  ' ' 

"From  eight  to  fifteen.' ' 

The  men,  Mr.  Sanborn  explained,  were  em- 
ployed chiefly  in  taking  care  of  the  stock.  A 
considerable  quantity  of  hay  is  cut.  On  the 
whole  ranch  the  tilled  land  is  only  about  300 
acres.  This  land  is  rented  to  farmers  on 
shares,  one-third  of  the  crop  being  taken  for 
rental. 

"That  rented  ground,  taking  one  year  with 
another,"  Mr.  Sanborn  said,  "has  paid  10  per 
cent  and  over  on  a  valuation  of  $25  an  acre." 

Last  year  his  share  of  the  crop  on  this  rented 
land  yielded  him  about  $4  an  acre.  At  a  time 
when  there  is  so  much  talk  about  "per  capita," 
farm  mortgages,  corn  burning  and  that  range 
of  themes,  the  figures  from  Mr.  Sanborn's 
books  are  very  interesting. 

In  the  way  of  "cow  stock,"  the  pride  of  the 
Sanborn  ranch  is  a  herd  of  pure  bred  Gallo- 
ways. Short  legged,  long  haired,  black  as  the 
waxy  soil  after  a  wetting,  hornless,  shaggy- 
headed,  the  Galloways  make  a  striking  picture 
on  the  pasture  scape  when  the  grass  is  turning 
brown.  They  feed  close  together  and  they 
keep  moving.  Their  restless  energy  is  one 
thing  that  strongly  commends  them  here. 
The  Texas  cattlemen  want  a  brute  that  will 
rustle  for  its  living  when  the  grass  is  short 
and  the  northers  come. 

"The  Shorthorn,"  Supt.  Shero  said,  "will 
get  discouraged  when  the  season  is  ba*d.  He 
must  be  helped  out  with  a  little  feed.  The 
Hereford  will  hump  up  and  lose  flesh  when 
the  cold  strikes  him.  But  the  Galloway  will 
keep  going  and  hunting  something  to  eat. 
After  a  hard  season  the  weaker  of  these  herds 
will  get  down  in  the  mud  sometimes,  and 


-ft 


won't  have  ambition  enough  to  get  up  again 
without  help.  You  never  see  a  Galloway  get 
in  that  fix;  he  is  always  able  to  take  care, of 
himself.  That  is  one  of  the  big  points  in  his 
favor  for  Texas."  . 

On  the  Sanborn  ranch  black  cattle  are  not 
raised  for  beef.  The  strain  is  too  fine  and 
expensive.  Thoroughbred  Galloways  are 
grown  and  sold  to  head  the.  herds  of  Short- 
horn and  Herefords  on  other  ranches.  The 
cross  gives  the  breed  which  finds  its  way  into 
market.  It  produces  an  animal  with  finer 
hair,  longer  legs  and  greater  weight  than  the 
Galloway,  but  the  strength  of  the  strain  shows 
itself  in  the  black  hide  and  the  hornless  head. 

The  short  legs  and  big  bodies  make  the 
Galloway  the  most  deceptive  looking  of  "cow 
brutes."  On  the  Sanborn  place  it  is  very 
easy  to  get  a  bet  on  the  weight  of  a  given 
Galloway,  and  it  is  easier  to  lose  it.  .Once 
upon  a  time  Dr.  Grant,  of  Sherman,  a  man 
with  a  fund  of  information  on  Texas  horses 
and  Texas  cattle,  encountered  the  deception. 
He  had  a  dispute  with  Mr,  Sanborn  about  the 
weight  of  a  young  Galloway  they  had  been 
looking  at. 

"I'll  bet  you  a  hat  you  can't  guess  the 
weight  of  that  brute  within  300  pounds,' '  said 
Mr.  Sanborn. 

The  Doctor  smiled  sarcastically,  looked  the 
Galloway  up  and  down  and  from  end  to  end. 
"  Six  hundred  pounds,' '  he  said. 

That  evening  the  bet  came  up  for  further 
discussion  at  the  house. 


THE    IMPORTED    PERCHERON. 


Supt.  Shero,  when  he  heard  of  it,  said  to  the 
Doctor:  "I'd  like  to  bet  a  hat  that  is  a  bad  bet, 
Doctor." 

Dr.  Grant  tapped  his  thinker,  and  with  in- 
creased sarcasm  said:  "This  head  might  be 
found  in  a  Penitentiary,  but  never  in  an 
asylum." 

The  boys  were  told  to  cut  out  the  particular 
Galloway,  and  get  him  on  the  scales.  He 
weighed  1130  pounds.  Dr.  Grant  looked  at 
the  indicator  and  then  at  the  brute.  "I 
wouldn't  have  believed  there  could  have  been 
so  much  meat  in  that  much  hide,' '  he  said. 

When  the  artist  caught  the  Galloways  for 
the  illustration  they  were  bunched  together 
so  closelv  that  their  sides  rubbed.  The  bunch 


was  making  the  double  motion  of  the  funnel- 
shaped  cloud.  The  individual  brutes  were 
moving  round  and  round  in  a  close  circle,  and 
the  bunch  itself  was  drifting  slowly  along  the 
wire  fence,  all  grazing. 

"You'll  have  to  get  'em  quick,"  said  Mr. 
Shero  from  his  horse,  "or  they'll  be  off,"  and 


FORGERON. 


so  the  drifting  and  at  the  same  time  revolving 
bunch  was  caught  on  the  double  movement, 
with  heads  and  bodies  and  tails  all  mixed  up. 
"  That  is  the  way  those  brutes  feed,  close  to- 
gether, just  as  you  see  'em,"  Mr.  Shero  ex- 
plained. There  is  no  other  cow  native  on  the 
broad  Texas  prairies  quite  like  the  Galloway. 
The  Polled  Angus  are  somewhat  like  the  Gal- 
loways in  appearance.  They  are  black  and 
hornless,  but  they  have  longer  legs,  finer  hair 
and  more  range  of  body.  That  is  where  the 
Durham  blood  comes  in.  Mr.  Sanborn  says 
the  Polled  Angus  is  a  breed  made  originally 
by  crossing  the  Galloway  and  the  Durham. 


The  raising  of  Galloways  is  only  a  side  issue. 
It  is  as  a  horse  ranch  that  the  Sanborn  place 
has  made  its  fame.  Mr.  Sanborn  has  tried 
several  experiments.  He  indulged  in  thor- 
oughbreds for  a  short  time,  but  discarded 
them.  This  Texas  climate  puts  fire  into  a 
naturally  sluggish  strain.  It  makes  of  thor- 
oughbreds an  animal  which  is  a  holy  terror 
in  horse  flesh,  spirited  and  excitable  almost 
beyond  training.  With  trotting  stock  better 
results  have  been  obtained.  "  It  is  as  natural,' ' 
said  Mr.  Sanborn,  with  a  laugh,  "  for  a  horse 
raiser  to  drift  into  trotting  stock  as  it  is  for  a 
cotton  .dealer  to  get  in  the  way  of  selling  fu- 
tures, or  for  a  grain  buyer  to  add  option 
trading  to  his  business."  And  so  Mr. 
Sanborn  has  drifted  into  the  breeding  of  trot- 
ters to  the  extent  of  having  a  $25,000  stallion, 
Prinmont,  at  the  head  of  a  stable  and  a  lot  of 
youngsters  which  show  better  than  2:40 
without  training.  But  the  breeding  of  trotters 
is  not  the  legitimate  field  of  the  ranch.  Coach 
and  draft  horses  are  the  two  branches  to  which 
the  most  of  the  land,  the  most  of  the  attention 
is  devoted.  The  barns  and  stables  hold  the 
sires  of  the  scores  of  colts  which  beside  their 
dams  make  interesting  pasture  scenes. 

"  This  seems  to  be  the  natural  home  of  the 
horse."  Mr.  Sanborn  said.  "Horses  can 


-6- 


stand  in  Texas  what  would  kill  them  North. 
We  ride  and  drive  and  work  horses  in  this 
region  in  a  way  that  would  be  impossible 
elsewhere.  The  climate  develops  the  lung 
power  and  staying  qualities." 

This  remark  was  fairly  well  illustrated  a  few 
minutes  later.  Supt.  Shero  and  one  of  his 
assistants  rode  into  a  big  pasture  and  pro- 
ceeded to  round  up  a  buncli  of  mares  with 
their  coach  strain  progeny  for  inspection.  A 
2-months  colt  in  Texas  is  wilder  than  an  In- 


A  TEXAS  CYCLONE  CELLAR. 


dian.  Apparently  some  of  the  youngsters 
took  the  visit  of  the  superintendent  as  the 
suggestion  for  a  frolic.  With  heads  and  tails 
up  the  colts  started  and  the  dams  followed 
with  maternal  devotion.  The  sun  was  blazing 
down  from  right  overhead.  The  mercury  was 
away  up  in  the  nineties.  Across  the  pasture, 
a  mile  wide,  up  and  down  and  round  and 
round  went  mares  and  colts,  superintendent 
and  assistant  in  a  mad  chase.  When,  in  about 
fifteen  minutes,  the  drove  was  corraled  where 
two  wire  fences  angled,  there  was  some  puf- 
fing, a  good  deal  of  perspiration,  a  lost  hat, 
but  no  suffering.  The  superintendent  treated 
the  chase  as  quite  an  every- day  affair.  A  lit- 
tle later  mares  were  grazing  and  colts  were 
nipping  and  kicking  at  each  other  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened  to  make  them  tired. 

The  head  of  Forgeron  looks  out  of  his  stable 
window  in  the  initial  of  the  date  line  of  this 
letter.  He  is  a  black  French  coach  stallion, 
with  a  pedigree  a  great  deal  longer  than  those 
which  qualify  Sons  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion. Forgeron  comes  from  the  home  of  his 
ancestors — France — but  he  has  been  in  Texas 
long  enough  to  be  naturalized.  It  is  one  of 
the  inconsistencies  of  this  natural  horse- 
breeding  climate  of  North  Texas  that  the 
horses  raised  here  can  stand  anything,  but 
the  horses  brought  here  from  the  North  have 
to  undergo  a  more  or  less  critical  period  of 
change  before  they  become  adapted  to  the 
conditions  here.  This  lesson  of  acclimating 
is  what  the  horse  and  cattle  raisers  of  Texas 
paid  a  big  price  to  learn.  The  time  came  when 
they  wanted  something  better  than  ponies  and 
long-horns.  They  did  as  they  usually  do  in 
everything.  They  plunged  on  fine  stock. 
They  bought  from  the  breeders  up  North  fine 
horses  by  the  car-load,  and  fine  bulls  by  the 


train-load.  They  unloaded  them  in  Texas 
and  turned  them  loose,  only  to  add  large  items 
to  loss  account  at  end  of  the  year.  It  was 
one  of  many  costly  experiments  which  have 
taught  Texas  wisdom.  After  that  Texas 
breeders  adopted  a  different  policy.  They 
brought  few  and  the  very  choicest  of  animals, 
some  from  the  North,  some  from  foreign  coun- 
tries. They  housed  and  cared  for  these  1m- 
portations  carefully.  On  this  basis  they  built 
up  their  own  breeding  establishments.  No 
Texan  now  goes  North  for  stallions  or  bulls 
except  for  high-priced  individuals  with  which 
to  infuse  new  blood  on  his  own  breeding 
ranch.  The  system  has  undergone  entire 
change. 

The  Percherons  are  the  emphatic  features  of 
the  Sanborn  place.  They  are  strong  in  num- 
bers, strong  in  weight  and  strong  in  every 
way.  There  is,  it  seems,  a  good,  profitable 
demand  for  good  draft  horses. 

"Don  t  you  find  this  general  application  of 
electricity  to  street  cars  is  cutting  down  the 
demand  for  horses  and  reducing  the  prices?" 

Mr.  Sanborn  shook  his  head  and  replied: 
"No;  we  have  seen  no  effect  on  the  demand 
for  horses  from  the  use  of  electricity.  The 
horses  we  breed  are  taken  for  express  busi- 
ness, fire  departments  and  heavy  work.  But, 
speaking  generally,  I  don't  think  that  horse- 
raising  will  be  affected  seriously  by  the  use 
of  electricity  for  motive  power.  If  they  use 
electricity  for  cars,  they  must  have  horses  to 
haul  the  coal  to  the  power  house.  Where 
horse  power  is  dispensed  with  in  one  place  it 
is  called  into  service  in  others.  The  country 
needs  more  and  more  horses." 


THE  JENNETS  AND  THEIR  YOUNO. 

Now  and  then,  in  Texas,  there  can  still  be 
seen  a  brand  which  marks  the  whole  flank  or 
shoulder  of  a  horse.  Some  of  these  hiero- 
glyphics look  as  if  they  had  been  made  with  a 
butcher  knife  while  the  animal  was  struggling 
for  liberty.  Slashes  18  inches  long,  with 
ridges  of  hair  only  partially  hiding  the  scar, 
tell  bow  things  were  done  at  one  time.  On  the 
Sanborn  ranch  the  branding  is  reduced  to  the 
briefest  possible  record.  It  is  also  made  a 
part  of  the  pedigree  system.  To  find  names 
for  colts  coming  by  the  hundreds  every  year 
would  be  too  great  a  tax  on  ingenuity.  The 
youngsters  are  numbered  as  they  come.  The 
numbers,  in  as  small  figures  as  can  be  distin- 
guished, are  branded  upon  the  shoulder.  The 


-7- 


colts  are  recorded  by  the  same  numbers  in  the 
pedigree  book.  Among  so  many  it  is  impos- 
sible to  distinguish  in  the  usual  way,  by  colors 
and  marks.  And  so  the  entry  is  limited  to 
"Colt,  No.  blank;  dam,  No.  blank."  This  is 
brevity.  The  brand  on  the  shoulder  identifies 
the  colt  with  the  corresponding  number  in  the 
record  book.  The  number  of  the  dam  affords 
the  means  of  tracing  back  the  pedigree  on 
that  side.  It  is  all  very  simple.  "No.  1076, 
got  by  65,  dam  107,"  for  instance,  tells  the 
story.  If  anybody  wants  to  know  more,  he 
turns  to  No.  76  and  No.  107  in  the  record  and 
thus  traces  back  to  the  beginning.  Pedigree- 
keeping  of  late  years  has  grown  into  cumber- 
some proportions  in  the  live-  stock  business. 
By  a  combination  of  pedigree  and  brand,  Mr. 
Sanborn  has  got  rid  of  about  nine-tenths  of 
the  labor.  He  has  developed  a  system  which 
meets  all  of  the  practical  purposes  of  pedi- 
grees. For  accuracy  the  small  brand  beats 
the  description  by  natural  marks  all  to  pieces. 
"We  have  about  everything  in  our  favor  in 
North  Texas  for  horse  breeding,"  Mr.  San- 
born  said  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  on 
the  business.  "Our  climate,  water  and  grass 
are  all  right.  Our  chief  concern  in  breeding 


RANCH   PETS— THE   CHINA   GEESE. 

here  is  in  regard  to  temper.  We  study  that 
with  a  good  deal  of  care.  Much  in  the  way  of 
results  depends  upon  that.  By  having  regard 
to  temper  in  breeding  we  find  we  can  greatly 
reduce  tho  work  of  breeding  and  training.  We 
can  add  to  the  value  of  a  horse  by  increasing 
his  amiability.  On  this  place  we  have  been 
making  a  study  of  this  feature  of  breeding, 
and  in  our  crossing  keep  it  in  view  as  one  of 
the  most  important  conditions.  We  find  that 
by  this  study  and  practice  we  can  obtain  con- 
trol of  the  question  of  temper  and  make  a 
horse  of  just  about  the  temper  we  want.  I 


regard  this  as  one  of  the  chief  considerations 
in  horse  breeding.  Yet  it  is  often  overlooked. 
The  horsemen  will  often  have  in  view  various 
other  points  and  combinations  in  dam  and 
sire,  but  he  will  ignore  the  question  of  temper. 
Here  we  have  enough  sires  to  choose  from, 
and  can  pick  to  produce  good  temper." 


There  are  two  curiosities  on  the  Sanborn 
ranch,  one  living,  the  other  inanimate.  In 
his  rambles  the  superintendent,  Mr.  Shero, 
once  discovered  a  pair  of  China  geese.  He 
brought  them  to  Sanborn,  and  they  have  the 


WAITING  TO  BE  LAUGHED    AT. 


run  of  the  barn  yards,  beating  watch  dogs  out 
of  sight,  the  superintendent  says.  The  China 
gander,  unlike  his  American  cousin,  doesn't 
eat.  He  has  an  enormous  nose,  a  double  beak 
as  it  were,  and  a  great  head.  He  carries  that 
head  as  high  as  a  very  long  and  a  very 
straight  neck  will  let  him.  Whenever  he  sees 
anybody  who  is  strange  or  anything  which  is 
unusual,  he  sounds  a  screeching  note  of 
alarm.  Geese  saved  Rome,  or  some  other 
ancient  city,  according  to  history.  The  San- 
born geese  look  to  be  capable  of  betraying 
horse-thieves,  if  they  ever  have  the  oppor- 
tunity. 

John  Howard,  speaking  of  and  for  Texas, 
once  proclaimed  that  there  wasn't  a  cyclone 
cellar  in  the  State.  John  Howard  isn't  often 
inaccurate,  but  in  this  instance  he  had  over- 
looked the  wonderful  piece  of  architecture  at 
Sanborn. 

The  United  States  weather  service 
has  recently  determined,  by  an  elaborate  cal- 
culation, that  Texas,  of  all  of  the  Western 
States,  has  the  smallest  percentage  of  cy- 
clones. In  fact  the  percentage  is  so  small  that 
Gen.  Greeley  recently  stated  in  an  address  to 
a  scientific  society  in  Washington  that  Texas 
might  almost  be  said  to  be  free  from  these  ter- 
rible visitations.  Notwithstanding  this  scien- 
tific fact,  Texas  people  at  one  time  had  some- 
thing of  a  scare  about  cyclones.  Looking  out 
upon  the  limitless  prairies,  people  said  to 
themselves,  after  reading  of  disasters  out- 
side of  their  borders:  "Well,  we'll 
catch  it  next.  If  Kansas  and  Mis- 
souri and  Iowa  and  Nebraska  have 
cyclones,  we  may  as  well  expect  them.  "  Com- 
ing from  the  East,  Mr.  Sanborn  had  the  East- 
ern idea  of  the  universality  of  cyclone  dan- 
gers in  the  West.  When  he  laid  out  the  ranch, 


he  didn't  stop  until  he  had  built  a  cyclone 
cellar  that  is  a  corker.  The  cellar  is  about 
half  above  and  half  under  ground.  It  has  an 
arched  roof,  and  the  material  is  of  masonry 
braced  with  iron  rods  an  inch  and  more  in 
thickness.  The  walls  and  arch  are  of  18  inches 
of  solid  masonry.  The  outer  surface  is  plas- 
tered with  cement.  After  waiting-  for  a  rea- 
sonable time  to  see  a  cyclone  wear  itself  out 
on  the  massive,  tomb-like  structure,  Mr.  San- 
born  turned  the  cellar  into  a  dairy  house,  and 
it  makes  a  very  good  one. 

The  China  geese  and  the  cyclone  cellar  are 
curiosities.  But  they  are  not  the  most 
humorous  things  on  the  ranch.  That  dis- 
tinction belongs  to  the  jackasses.  Texas  is  a 
wide  state  and  she  has  room  for  many  things 
that  are  comical.  But  there  is  nothing  fun- 
nier than  a  big  group  of  jacks  or  jennets  and 
their  offspring.  Two  or  three  of  the  big 
pastures  of  the  Sanborn  ranch  are  given  up  to 
these  useful  but  not  beautiful  animals.  Long 
ears  are  not  an  indication  of  stupidity.  They 
are  the  badge  of  patience.  They  go  with  a 
deep  and  all-pervading  spirit  of  investigation. 

To  stop  in  the  vicinity  of  these  animals  is  to 
offer  an  opportunity  for  better  acquaintance. 

They  cease  grazing,  big  and  little  come  for- 
ward to  within  easy  speaking  distance,  as- 
sume a  stare  of  patient  interrogation,  and 
wait  to  be  laughed  at  loud  and  long.  The  off- 
spring of  jack  and  jennet  seems  to  come  into 
the  world  full-grown  as  to  ears,  half-grown  as 
to  legs  and  about  one-eighth  grown  as  to 
body.  The  result  is  an  exaggeration  of  the 
grown  up  oddity.  The  expression  on  the 
countenance  is  a  combination  of  intelligence, 
innocence  and  inquiry,  with  a  suggestion  of  a 
considerable  capacity  for  devilment. 

W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


Two  Pioneering-  Phases  of  the  Great 
Cotton  Problem. 


The    Sherman     Experiment— tips    and 
Downs  of  Oil  Making -The  Largest 
Cotton-Seed  Mill    in    the  World- 
Southern  Bags  for  North- 
ern   Grain. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

SHERMAN,  TEX.,  July  24.— There  was  a  time 
when  Texas  did  not  encourage  manufactur- 
ing. Two  Ohio  men  who  came  down  to  fur- 
nish the  skill  for  a  new  enterprise  were  hung 
for  their  hardihood.  That  was  the  Tellico 
incident.  Some  of  the  leading  citizens  of  Cen- 
tral Texas  got  together  and  agreed  that  Tex^s 


should  make  her  own  lumber,  grind  her  own 
flour  and  spin  her  own  cotton.  They  selected 
Tellico  for  the  location  of  lumber,  flour  and 
cotton  manufacturing.  They  deputized  the 
Hon.  Thomas  W.  McRae  to  go  North  and  buy 
the  equipment.  They  contracted  with  the 
Ohio  men  to  come  down  and  set  the  mills  go- 
ing. Mr.  McRae  started  North  with  the  money 
to  buy  saws,  stones  and  spindles.  On 
the  way  he  met  the  eminent  statesman  of 
that  day,  Robert  Tombs.  Mr.  Tombs  per- 
suaded McRae  that  wild  land  in  North  Texas 
was  a  better  thing  than  cotton  manufactur- 
ing. Mr.  McRae  invested  in  200,000  acres 
of  land  instead  of  in  looms.  The  Ohio  men 
came  down  according  to  contract  and  went 
to  Tellico  to  set  up  the  mills.  There  were 
no  mills  to  set  up.  Without  waiting  to  inves- 
tigate the  stories  these  men  told,  a  mass 
meeting  of  Texans  decided  that  the  strangers 
must  be  abolitionists  and  hung  them.  After 
life  was  extinct  papers  arrived  from  the  capi- 
talists who  had  planned  the  mills  showing  the 
arrangement  under  which  the  men  had  come. 
Only  one  of  the  promoters  of  the  Tellico  man- 
ufacturing scheme,  Judge  A.  B.  Norton,  of 
Dallas,  is  still  living.  There  are  many  Tex- 
ans, not  old  men,  either,  who  remember  very 
well  the  unfortunate  mistake  that  was  made 
in  the  reception  of  the  skilled  labor  from  Ohio. 


Things  have  changed  since  then.  The  man 
who  will  come  to  Texas  now  and  start  a  new 
industry  will  get  backing  and  a  banquet  in- 
stead of  a  rope  with  a  slip-knot.  At  Sherman 
the  people  are  a  little  prouder  to-day  of  a  six 
months'  manufacturing  experiment  than  of 
any  other  one  thing  within  their  community. 
The  experiment  is  in  the  manufacture  of 
seamless  bags.  Raw  cotton  at  the  rate  of  five 
bales  a  day  is  taken  from  the  farmers'  wagons 
at  one  end  of  the  factory.  Finished  bags  at 
the  rate  of  3000  a  day  are  shipped  out  at  the 
other  end.  Sherman  put  $1CO,000  into  this 
experiment.  Supt.  Jaques  is  an  Englishman. 
Asst.  Supt.  Fairbanks  is  a  Northern  man. 
A  fine  brick  building,  with  room  for  double 
the  present  capacity  of  looms,  was  erected  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  city.  It  is  one- story,  with 
great  windows  letting  in  all  the  light  and  air 
there  is.  It  stands  in  the  midst  of  an  orchard. 
Provision  is  made  for  pumping  in  cold  air  in 
summer  and  warm  air  in  winter.  The  very 
latest  machinery  and  contrivances,  such  as 
automatic  feeders  for  the  furnaces  and  a  su- 
perb electric  light  plant,  are  included  in  the 
equipment.  Labor  is  saved  at  every  turn.  In 
the  cotton  room,  where  the  raw  material  is 
received,  a  picking  and  breaking  machine  re- 
duces the  staple  to  sheets.  Then  comes  the 
carding  engine,  with  its  myriads  of  little 
teeth,  straightening  out  the  fiber.  Six  rolls 
pass  into  one,  and  are  mixed  and  long  drawn 
out.  Next  comes  a  twisting  together  of 
strands  and  more  drawing  out  to  get  the  fiber 


so  distributed  that  its  greatest  strength  may 
be  obtained.  Again  and  again  the  strands 
are  mingled  and  twisted  and  drawn 
out  until  the  string  which  comes  from  the 
last  mixing  represents  a  portion  of  each  of 
seventy-two  rolls.  The  next  step  is  the  spin- 
ning. Three  rolls  of  the  string  are  strung  into 
warp  yarn  at  the  rate  of  7%  inches  of  yarn  for 
each  inch  of  the  rolls.  And  now  come  the 
looms.  By  a  peculiar  double  up-and-down 
movement  of  the  loom,  the  long  seamless  bag 
gradually  evolves  from  the  mingling  of  the 
countless  threads  and  the  flying  shuttle 
when  the  desired  length  is  reached  the  shuttle 
is  stopped  for  a  few  movements  of  the  loom 
and  then  another  bag  with  seamless  bottom 
and  seamless  sides  is  begun.  The  bag  comes 
from  the  loom  completed,  with  the  exception 
of  the  turning  down  of  the  top  edge  and  a 
seam  by  machine  to  prevent  raveling. 


space  and  power  to  the  manufacture  of  coarse 
cotton  cloth.  Only  10,  11  and  12  per  cent  of 
the  weight  of  the  raw  cotton  is  lost  in  the  pro- 
cess of  manufacture,  even  counting  the  bale 
bagging  and  ties.  Cotton  costs  at  the  factory 
5c  and  5%c  in  these  ruinous  days.  At  present 
prices  the  thirty  bales  of  bags  a  day  pay  a  fair 
return  on  the  investment.  But  the  Sherman 
people  have  discovered  that  the  addition  of 
100  wage-earners  to  their  population  of  con- 
sumers is  a  good  thing  all  around.  They  are 
very  well  satisfied  with  their  experiment. 


The  man  who  shipped  the  first  cotton-seed 
oil  cake  to  Great  Britain  lives  in  Sherman. 
His  name  is  Capt.  Thomas  Forbes.  He  was  in 
the  cotton  business  in  New  Orleans  many 
years  ago.  At  that  time  the  use  of  the  cotton 
seed  for  oil  and  cake  was  scarcely  known. 
Somewhere  up  the  country  a  big  planter  oc- 


THE  NEW  COTTON  BAG  FACTOEY. 


The  superintendent  of  the  Sherman  factory, 
after  only  six  months  running,  lays  down  the 
bags  of  Manchester,  N.  H.,  beside  those  from 
his  own  looms,  and  invites  comparison  by 
microscope. 

"I  will  leave  it  to  any  unprejudiced  person 
to  say  if  our  bags  do  not  show  better  cotton 
and  better  workmanship,"  he  said.  Drawing 
through  his  fingers  a  fragment  from  a  roll 
until  the  fiber  slowly  parted,  he  added: 
"There;  you  can't  beat  that  staple  anywhere. 
It  is  ove'r  an  inch  long.  The  finest  cotton  in 
the  United  States  grows  along  Red  River  from 
Sherman  to  Paris."  f> 

The  Sherman  bag  factory  has  been  running 
six  months.  Its  product  has  gone  as  far  East 
as  Cincinnati,  as  far  North  as  St.  Paul.  The 
officers  of  the  company  are  satisfied.  The  or- 
ders ahead  call  for  steady  running  until  Octo- 
ber. The  company  will  either  double  the  ma- 
chinery for  bag  making  or  apply  the  surplus 


casionally  ground  a  few  hundred  bushels  of 
seed  in  a  rude  way,  and  sent  it  in  the  form  of 
oil  cake  down  to  New  Orleans.  "I  had  seen 
some  of  these  small  lots  of  cake,"  said  Capt. 
Forbes,  "  and  it  struck  me  the  cake  might  be 
used  to  fatten  cattle  in  Great  Britain.  An  En- 
glish gentleman  was  visiting  in  New  Orleans 
about  that  time.  I  told  him  of  the  cake  and 
what  I  thought  could  be  done  with  it.  He 
said  he  had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind, 
and  was  quite  curious  about  it.  I  told  him 
I'd  send  over  some,  but  when  I  came 
to  get  the  cake  I  discovered  that  it  was  harder 
to  do  than  I  had  thought.  By  picking  up  a 
small  lot  here  and  a  small  lot  there,  I  collected 
forty  or  fifty  tons  and  sent  it  over.  The  busi- 
ness proved  to  be  very  profitable.  Some  of 
the  scientific  men  on  the  other  side  took  hold 
of  the  cake  and  analyzed  it.  They  said,  '  Here 
we  can  get  more  oil  out  of  it  than  the  Yankees 
do. '  So  they  got  up  machinery,  subjected 


the  oil  cake  to  another  process  and  then  fed 
the  cake  to  their  cattle.  It  was  in  1846  I  made 
this  first  shipment  of  oil  cake  to  Great  Britain. 
The  business  was  even  at  that  time  profitable. 
But  it  is  only  in  the  last  fifteen  years  or  so 
that  the  oil  and  cake  from  the  cotton  seed  has 
come  into  such  general  use.  When  I  first 
came  to  Texas  to  live  there  wasn't  a  bale  of 
cotton  shipped  out  of  the  State.  Now  Texas 
sells  2,000,000  bnies. " 

"  And  the  great  addition  Texas  has  made  to 
the  cotton  supply  is  the  cause  of  the  low  prices, 
isn't  it,  Captain?" 

"Partly  that  is  the  cause.  But  people  don't 
use  as  much  cotton  as  they  did.  The  cotton 


Mr.  Tassey  started  in  a  very  modest  way.  The 
first  thing  we  knew  about  him  he  was  making 
oil  out  there.  He  kept  on  independently  in- 
creasing his  plant  and  business.  After  he  had 
made  an  eminent  success  of  it  we  formed  a 
stock  company  and  backed  him  with  all  the 
money  he  wanted.  But  J.  C.  Tassey  is  en- 
titled to  the  credit  of  giving  Sherman  the  larg- 
est oil  mill  in  the  South  and  the  largest  cotton 
gin  in  the  world.  And  now  we  are  building 
an  entirely  new  mill,  which  will  have  a  front 
of  300  feet  and  will  contain  the  finest  machin- 
ery that  can  be  devised.  We  are  building  with 
brick  and  stone  and  in  the  most  substantial 
manner.  But  brick  and  stone  and  machinery 


THE   LARGEST   COTTON-SEED   OIL  MILL  IN   THE   WORLD. 


goods  made  now  lasts  longer  than  that  manu- 
factured formerly.  That  is  one  of  the  princi- 
pal reasons  why  there  is  overproduction  of 
cotton  now. ' » 


The  largest  cotton- seed  mill  in  the  world  is 
rising  from  its  foundations  on  the  prairie  east 
of  Sherman.  It  will  eat  up  432  tons  of  cotton- 
seed in  twenty-four  hours.  That  means  the 
seed  which  grows  with  over  800  bales  of  cotton. 
A  half  ton  of  seed  to  a  bale  of  cotton  is  the 
average .  Something  more  than  a  dozen  years 
ago  a  young  Pittsburger,  who  had  had  a  good 
schooling  in  machinery  and  its  uses,  came  to 
Sherman  and  started  a  little  seed  mill  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  city. 

"  That,  "  said  banker  Randolph,  one  of  the 
solid  capitalists  of  Sherman,  "  was  almost  be- 
fore we,  who  had  been  here  a  lifetime,  knew 
there  was  such  a  thing  as  oil  in  cotton  seed. 


do  not  make  a  successful  cotton-seed  mill. 
That  takes  brains.  We  rely  on  Mr.  Tassey  to 
furnish  them. ' ' 

The  banker's  reference  to  brains  is  full  of 
meaning.  There  has  been  a  great  deal  of 
money  made  in  the  cotton- seed  oil  manufac- 
ture in  Texas.  There  has  been  a  great  deal 
lost.  A  few  years  ago,  after  a  very  good  sea- 
son for  the  business,  there  was  «'in  epidemic  of 
oil  mill  investment  in  the  State .  Every  large 
town  in  the  cotton  producing  parts  of  Texas 
had  its  mill.  There  were  no  fewer  than  thirty 
of  these  enterprises.  A  bad  year  sent  two- 
thirds  of  them  to  the  wall.  Last  season  was  a 
good  one  for  those  mills  which  survived  in 
Texas.  And  now  there  is  another  epidemic  of 
oil  mill  building  likely  to  be  followed  by  an- 
other assortment  of  wrecks.  In  the  manu- 
facture of  cotton- seed  oil  men  play  for  big 
stakes.  Few  products  are  so  fluctuating  in 


- 11  - 


price  as  those  which  come  out  of  a  cotton- seed 
oil  mill.  The  Sherman  mill  has  sold  oil  at  55c 
and  oil  at  20c.  It  has  sold  oil  cake  at  $20  a 
ton  and  oil  cake  at  $10  a  ton. 

' '  The  size  of  the  cotton  crop, ' '  Mr.  Tassey 
explained,  in  the  course  of  an  interesting  con- 
versation about  this  peculiar  industry,  "  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  market  is  specu- 
lative. In  1882  we  had  a  good  year,  one  of 
the  best.  In  1887  we  had  a  fairly  pros- 
perous season.  Last  year  was  good.  The  ele- 
ments of  uncertainty  in  the  business  are  men. 
Last  year,  for  example,  we  had  good  crops  in 
this  country.  In  Europe  the  crops  failed. 
There  was  a  great  demand  for  our  oil  cake  for 
feeding,  and  we  sold  at  profitable  prices. 
Practically  all  of  the  oil  cake  goes  abroad. 
This  year  Europe  has  good  cereal  crops  and  a 
good  root  crop.  She  will  not  need  so  much 
oil  cake  as  she  did  last  year,  and  she  will  not 
pay  so  much  for  what  she  does  take.  There 
are  ether  conditions  which  enter  into  this 
business.  A  big  corn  crop  in  this 
country  means  a  big  hog  crop.  That 
means  lots  of  grease  and  less  demand 
for  cotton-seed  oil.  The  most  of  our  oil  prod- 
uct goes  into  the  manufacture  of  compound 
lard.  When  the  hog  crop  is  large  the  oil  man 
has  to  scratch  his  head  to  think  how  he  will 
pull  through.  We  have  to  commence  buying 
and  working  up  cotton-seed  before  we  know 
what  the  hog  crop  is  going  to  be  and  what  the 
demand  for  oil  will  be.  Thus,  before  we  know 
what  our  margin  will  be  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  our  season.  Then  there  are  years  when  the 
seed  rots  on  our  hands.  For  some  climatic 
reason  the  seed  will  not  keep  some  seasons  as 
it  does  others.  I  have  seen  $150,000  worth  of 
seed  lost  by  Texas  mills  in  a  single  year,  just 
because  it  would  not  keep  until  it  could  be 
worked  up.  "  r 

' '  Does  cotton  seed  grade  like  cotton  ?  ' ' 

"  The  staple  has  little  to  do  with  the  seed. 
The  seed  on  the  Texas  uplands  is  not  as  good 
as  that  raised  in  the  Mississippi  bottoms.  It 
is  not  as  rich  in  oil.  But  beyond  these  differ- 
ences there  is  not  much  relationship  between 
the  staple  and  the  seed. ' ' 

"How  much  of  the  cotton  seed  raised  in 
Texas  goes  to  the  oil  mills ,  Mr.  Tassey  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  to  exceed  20  per  cent.  But  all  goes 
that  can  be  handled  profitably.  At  least  one- 
third  of  the  seed  must  be  saved  over  for  the 
next  year's  crop.  You  know  the  planter  is 
obliged  to  save  not  only  enough  for  seeding 
once,  but  also  enough  for  a  second  seeding. 
Cotton  must  be  replanted  occasionally.  Then 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  seed  at  such  a  distance 
from  mills  that  it  will  not  pay  to  haul  and 
ship.  About  20  per  cent  I  think  is  all  there  is 
of  the  cotton  seed  raised  in  Texas  which  can 
be  handled  with  profit  to  the  raiser  and  to  the 
mills.  Last  year,  with  some  of  the  Texas  mills 
closed  by  the  trust,  there  were  still  enough 
running  in  Texas  to  take  all  of  the  seed 


that  could  be  handled  profitably  in  this 
State. ' ' 

'  'What  will  these  twelve  or  fifteen  new  mills 
do?" 

Mr.  Tassey  shook  his  head. 

"If  the  mills  don't  make  money,  their  com- 
petition will  make  better  prices  for  the  planter, 
won't  it?" 

* '  That  is  a  mistake .  It  isn '  t  for  the  interest 
of  the  farmer  to  have  too  many  seedmen 
handling  his  crop.  Taxes,  interest  and  other 
expenses  increase  with  the  number  of  mills. 
That  means  an  increased  burden  for  the  in- 
dustry to  carry.  There  is  only  about  so  much 
seed  to  be  ground  up.  The  more  mills  and  the 
more  investment  the  less  there  is  left  for  the 
farmer.  If  you  argue,  as  the  men  with  ma- 
chinery to  sell  are  telling,  that  more  mills 
will  increase  the  amount  of  seed  bought  and 
manufactured  into  oil,  you  reach  the  same  re- 
sult. There  is  a  market  for  about  so  much  oil 
and  cake,  and  when  there  is  increased  pro- 
duction the  prices  go  down  and  there  is  less  to 
be  paid  to  the  farmer  for  his  seed.  There  are 
mills  enough  now  to  do  the  business.  The 
increase  of  mills  will,  it  seems  to  me,  mean  a 
decrease  in  the  prices  paid  for  seed.  The 
machinery  men  figure  out  a  different  show- 
ing, but  they  are  interested  in  equipping  as 
many  mills  as  they  can." 

"But  you  are  building  a  large  mill,  Mr. 
Tassey  ? ' ' 

"  We  are  not  building  to  increase  our  ca- 
pacity, but  to  increase  our  facilities  for  hand- 
ling and  to  reduce  cost.  We  expect  to  manu- 
facture what  we  do  now,  but  we  expect  to  do 
it  in  much  less  ame.  Quick  handling  of  the 
seed  is  necessary  to  success  with  it.  We  shall 
cut  down  the  chances  of  loss  from  seed  spoil- 
ing on  our  hands,  and  we  shall  get  our  prod- 
uct into  market  quicker.  That  is  the  idea  on 
which  we  are  constructing  our  new  mill." 


All  is  not  gold  that  glitters  in  the  cotton- 
seed oil  business.  For  instance,  there  is  the 
oil-cake  feeding  in  this  country.  Some  Texas 
cattlemen  builded  great  expectations  on  the 
results  of  the  early  experiments. 

"Under  present  conditions  there  is  no  mon- 
ey either  to  the  mill  or  to  the  cattlemen  in 
feeding  cake  here,"  Mr.  Tassey  said.  "  I  be- 
lieve that  every  cattleman  who  has  taken  it 
up  and  followed  it  has  lost.  Two  years  ago 
cattle  which  were  fattened  on  oil  cake  yielded 
a  profit.  That  was  on  account  of  the  high 
price  of  beef  cattle.  Last  year  the  balance 
was  the  other  way.  There  were  men  who  fed 
3,000  head  of  cattle  here,  but  they  made  noth- 
ing." 

"  How  was  that,  Mr.  Tassey  ?  ' ' 

"  The  range  men  got  it  all.  The  men  who 
fed  paid  $16  a  ton  for  their  meal.  They  sold 
their  cattle  at  2%c  and  3c  fattened.  The 
trouble  was  they  put  the  cattle  in  at  $20  a 
head  from  the  range.  That  was  too  high  to 


-12- 


ieave  a  margin  of  profit  at  the  low  price  for 
beef  cattle.  The  year  before  that  the  feeders 
put  in  their  cattle  at  $20  or  $25  from  the 
range,  paid  about  the  same  price  for  meal  as 
last  year,  but  sold  for  4Kc.  That  gave  a  mar- 
gin of  profit." 

"  So  far  as  the  fattening  goes,  oil  cake  is  all 
right?" 

"Cotton-seed  meal  and  hulls  make  the  finest 
fattening  food  that  can  be  given  cattle.  At 
the  average  prices  they  will  fatten  cattle 
cheaper  than  corn  at  20c  a  bushel.  But  there 
must  be  a  better  balance  between  range  and 
fed  cattle  than  there  has  been  to  make  this 
kind  of  feeding  profitable." 

Returns  from  the  cotton  acreage  of  North 
Texas  show  a  decrease  of  25  per  cent  as  com- 
pared with  last  year.  For  the  rest  of  the 
State  the  decrease  is  not  quite  so  much.  The 
average  for  the  whole  State  is  about  20  per 
cent.  This  reduction  of  acreage  is  in  a  degree 
more  apparent  than  real.  Last  year's  cotton 
crop  in  Texas  was  extraordinary  in  acreage 
and  yield.  The  reduction  of  25  per  cent  this 
year  is  in  reality  only  about  10  per  cent  under 
two  years  ago.  Low  prices  and  the  agitation 
over  the  cotton  grower's  condition  prompted 
the  North  Texans  to  cut  off  one-fourth  of  their 
cotton  ground  and  put  it  into  corn  and  other 
grain. 

But  Mr.  Tassey  doesn't  believe  the  Texas 
cotton- grower's  condition  is  as  bad  as  it  has 
been  pictured.  "Last  year's  cotton  crop," 
he  said,  "was  marketed  at  only  about  8  per 
cent  below  the  average  price  *or  ten  years.  I 
mean  that  in  North  Texas  the  man  who  picked 
and  sold  his  cotton  immediately  came  within 
8  per  cent  of  the  average  price  for  the  whole 
ten  years  preceding." 

Some  surprise  was  expressed  at  this  as  being 
rather  inconsistent  with  the  popular  im- 
pression about  the  hard  lot  of  the  cotton 
farmer. 

"  I  am  not  talking  about  the  man  who  held 
on  to  his  cotton  until  it  went  down 
to  6%c  and  6c,"  Mr.  Tassey  continued. 
And  then  he  made  another  point  even 
more  surprising.  He  said:  "We  figured 
this  out,  taking  all  of  the  recent  twenty  years 
except  1881,  which  we  left  out  because  it  was 
exceptional  on  account  of  a  very  small  crop 
and  very  high  prices.  But  our  cotton  rais- 
ers more  than  made  up  for  the  8  per  cent  loss 
in  average  price  by  the  increased  yield  per 
acre.  Cotton  in  North  Texas  when  sold  right 
after  picking  paid  more  per  acre  the  past  sea- 
son than  the  average  cotton  crop  for  ten 
years.  The  average  yield  was  from  15  to  20 
per  cent  better  than  the  average  for  nine  or 
ten  years.  Most  of  those  who  sold  promptly 
got  8c.  We  bought  cotton  here  right 
along  up  to  the  time  our  gin  burned 
in  October  and  we  did  not  pay 
under  8c.  Of  course,  those  who  held  cotton 


and  saw  it  go  down  to  6>£c  and  6c  were  badly 
hurt.  Some  farmers  held  on,  hoping  for  bet- 
ter prices,  and  got  pinched.  1  he  merchants 
were  hurt  worse  than  the  farmers.  They  were 
left  with  the  declining  cotton  on  their  hands. 
They  were  forced  to  ask  extensions  from  those 
with  whom  they  dealt  North.  They  pleaded 
the  low  price  of  cotton  and  said  the  farmers 
could  not  pay  up,  and  out  of  all  this  talk 
grew  the  impression  that  the  actual  cotton 
grower  was  a  great  deal  worse  off  than  he 
really  was.  You  can  easily  figure  how  much 
the  grower  can  afford  to  stand  in  de- 
crease of  price  if  he  gets  15  to 
20  per  cent  increase  of  yield  per  acre. 
Then  there  is  the  matter  of  supply.  The  de- 
cline in  what  the  farmer  buys  has  been  much 
more  than  in  the  cotton  he  sells.  Clothing, 
sugar,  coffee,  machinery,  all  have  decreased 
in  price  in  greater  percentage  than  cotton  has. 
The  fact  is  the  cotton-grower's  condition  in 
Texas  is  better  than  is  generally  supposed. 
The  bad  impression  is  largely  due  to  the  mer- 
chants who  got  caught  by  the  decline  of  cot- 
ton, and  who,  in  asking  extension  from 
Northern  creditors,  made  it  appear  that  the 
farmer  had  lost  money  on  his  crop  and 
couldn't  pay.  I  didn't  say  there  is  money  in 
cotton  at  present  prices,  but  the  Texas  farmer 
who  sold  promptly  did  not  lose  money  last 


"Don't  you  think  the  Texas  farmer  will  be 
better  off  with  less  cotton  and  more  corn?' ' 

"Cotton  is  the  selling  crop  for  Texas  farmers 
for  this  reason.  A  large  corn  crop  down  here 
makes  a  cheap  corn  crop.  An  increase  of  100 
per  cent  in  the  Texas  corn  crop  will  depreciate 
the  price  50  per  cent.  Cotton,  in  1883,  the 
year  of  a  great  crop,  sold  for  8%c.  It  has  de- 
preciated but  25  per  cent  since,  taking  the 
lowest  price.  As  I  said  before,  the  Texas 
farmer  made  more  money  last  year  per  acre 
on  cotton  than  he  has  made  in  the  average  of 
the  ten  previous  years.  When  we  raise  a  large 
corn  crop  we  can't  feed  it  all.  Corn,  oats  and 
hay  have  only  a  local  market.  The  cotton 
crop  has  the  world  for  a  market.  It  will  hold 
its  price  better  than  any  of  these  other 
products.' ' 

"What  the  South  mostly  needs,"  said  Mr. 
Tassey,  "is  manufactures  of  cotton.  I  could 
talk  to  you  all  night  about  that,  or  I  could 
tell  you  my  opinion  in  a  sentence.  To  put  it 
the  shortest  way  I  would  say,  'For  a  man  of 
enterprise  with  sufficient  experience  and  cap- 
ital, who  wants  a  stable,  legitimate  business, 
the  manufacture  of  cotton  goods  in  the  South 
presents  to-day  the  finest  opportunity  in  the 
United  States.'  I  don't  say  it  is  a  field  for  an 
old  fogy  with  set  notions,  but  for  a  man  with 
good  business  ideas  and  energy.  Cotton  manu- 
facturing is  a  business  that  is  bound  to  come 
South.  We  shall  have  to  begin  with  coarse 
goods.  That  was  what  New  England 
did.  Great  Britain  thought  years  ago 


that  coarse  cotton  goods  couldn't  be 
made  in  New  England,  but  American  mills 
succeeded.  Now  they  are  making  the  finer 
goods,  not  the  finest,  but  finer  grades.  The 
history  of  cotton  manufacture  in  New  England 
will  repeat  itself  in  the  South.  New  England 
manufacturers  think  we  haven't  the  labor. 
We  shall  have  it.  We  shall  educate  labor  to 
the  work,  just  as  was  done  in  New  England. 
We  have  got  to  start  in  with  the  coarser  goods. 
We  shall  manufacture  just  as  cheaply  from 
the  labor  standpoint.  We  shall  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  saving  the  cost  of  transportation 
on  the  raw  material  all  the  way  to  New  Eng- 
land, and  for  our  local  market  we  shall  save 
the  cost  of  the  transportation  of  the  manufac- 
tured goods  from  New  England  to  Texas.  The 
manufacture  of  cotton  goods  is  certain  to 
come  to  the  South."  W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS, 


The  Progress  of  the  "Nester"  Across 
the  Panhandle  Pastures. 


Symptoms  of  a   Healthy  Reaction— The 

Story  of  the  Cowman's  Bluff— 

A  Prairie-Dog  Problem. 


Special  correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

IN  THE  PANHANDLE,  TEXAS,  August  2.— 
The  Panhandle  has  raised  another  grain 
crop.  The  figures  are  not  all  in.  But  the 
estimate  at  the  Fort  Worth  Board  of  Trade 
is  a  crop  of  6,500,000  bushels  of  wheat. 
Oats  and  barley  will  go  3,000,000  more. 
As  for  the  corn,  that  is  beyond  guessing. 
Gen.  Clark,  of  the  Fort  Worth  Board  of 
Trade,  said  :  "The  corn  crop  of  Texas  this  year 
will  be  phenomenal.  We  have  thousands  of 


been  threshed  out  30,000  bushels  of  oats,  and 
there  will  be  70,000  bushels  of  corn.  The  rest 
of  the  country  does  not  know  how  rapidly 
Texas  is  forging  ahead  as  a  grain  State,  Not 
one  out  of  a  hundred  Texans  appreciate  what 
is  going  on  in  this  direction.  Who  ever  heard 
of  Texas  barley?  Last  winter  a  Fort  Worth 
man  went  around  and  induced  some  of  the 
farmers  to  try  barley.  One  of  them,  a  Mr. 


GATE  WAI   AX»   THE   F  ANHANDUi  —  TilJB  FuBT 
•  BOARD  OF  TRADE. 


Clanahan,  put  in  500  acres.  He  has  har- 
vested his  crop,  and  it  yields  him  $24  per 
acre,  or  $12,000  on  his  experiment.  A  malt- 
house  is  being  built  at  Fort  Worth, 
and  500,000  bushels  of  barley  are  wanted 
for  the  first  year.  The  Hoxie  farm  will 
put  in  500  acres  of  this  new  grain  for  Texas 
next  season.  The  average  yield  of  barley  in 


THE   PANHANDLE   "NESTER. 


acres  that  will  give  seventy-five  bushels  to 
the  acre. ' ' 

On  the  Hoxie  farm,  near  Taylor,  in  William- 
son County,  Central  Texas,  there  have  Just 


the  experimental  fields  this  year  has  been 
fifty  bushels,  and  the  St.  Louis  price  is  being 
paid  in  Fort  Worth;  where  the  grain  is  wanted 
for  home  consumption. 


This  is  not  a  good  grain  year  for  Texas.  It 
is  the  poorest  in  five  years.  In  the  Panhandle 
the  wheat  crop  is  spoken  of  as  a  failure.  That 
is  because  the  Panhandle  farmer  considers 
anything  less  than  twelve  bushels  a  failure. 
The  season  has  been  erratic  in  Texas  as  it  has 
been  in  other  parts  of  the  country.  Some 
farmers  have  got  eight  bushels  ;  some  have 
got  fifteen  bushels.  Here  and  there  a  report 
of  the  threshing  shows  twenty  and  twenty- 
five  bushels.  But  the  average  is  lower  than  it 
has  been  for  the  five  years  which  have  elapsed 
since  the  discovery  of  the  grain-growing  ca- 
pacity of  the  Panhandle.  And  so  these  farm- 
ers call  it  a  failure. 


That  jog  of  Texas  which  runs  up  north  be- 
tween Indian  Territory  on  the  east  and  New 
Mexico  on  the  west  is  the  Panhandle  proper. 
It  is  larger  than  most  States.  By  common 
consent  the  name  has  been  extended  to  the 
great  body  of  chocolate-colored  loam  which 
constitutes  the  red  lands.  The  Panhandle,  as 
originally  applied,  was  a  day's  ride  from 


there  are  three  flouring  mills  and  three  eleva- 
tors. One  of  these  mills  turns  out  500  barrels 
of  flour  a  day.  A  new  mill  of  200  barrels 
capacity  and  a  new  elevator  of  100,000  bush- 
els room  are  nearing  completion  to  help  take 
care  of  a  crop  which  is  a  failure.  Last  year 
these  mills  at  Wichita  Falls  ran  night  and  day 
from  harvest  to  harvest.  And  then  enough 
wheat  to  have  kept  three  such  mills  running 
was  shipped  away.  In  two  months  last  year 
the  farmers  of  adjoining  counties  received 
$750,000  at  Vernon  for  the  wheat  they  hauled  in. 
"In  1867,"  said  Mr.  L.  P.  Goodell,  a  Fort 
Worth  business  man,  "  I  went  into  Minnesota. 
When  I  came  to  Texas  I  thought  I  had  never 
seen  two  countries  look  so  much  alike  as  Min- 
nesota and  the  Panhandle,  before  either  had 
been  developed.  You  know  they  used  to  say  in 
those  days  we  couldn't  raise  anything  in 
Minnesota,  just  as  they  said  only  five  years 
ago  no  crops  would  grow  in  the  Panhandle.' ' 


Here  was  a  strong  motive  for  the  assertion 
that  the   Panhandle  would  not  grow  crops. 


HARVESTING  ON  THE  KNOTT  FARM  IN  THE  PANHANDLE. 


Fort  Worth.  The  Panhandle  as  comprehend- 
ed to-day  is  reached  a  couple  of  hours  after 
leaving  "  The  Fort.  "  And  then  the  traveler 
is  in  it  for  the  rest  of  the  day  and  most  of  the 
night. 

The  revolution  in  the  Panhandle  has  been  a 
quick  one.  The  first  thresher  brought  into  the 
new  wheat  country  was  an  old  ten  horse-power 
from  Illinois.  It  is  still  running  near  Wich- 
ita Falls.  The  man  who  came  on  with  this 
thresher  says  that  the  first  year  after  his  ar- 
rival he  didn't  find  a  field  which  j'ielded  less 
than  seventeen  bushels  an  acre.  He  did  the 
threshing  for  a  whole  county.  That  was  six 
years  ago.  This  season  it  was  possible  to  see 
eight  reapers  marching  en  echelon  across  one 
wheat  field  in  the  same  county.  The 
farmer  who  furnished  such  a  pageant  had 
1,500  acres  in  wheat  out  of  4,000  acres 
for  which  he  paid  $10  an  acre.  Up  and  down 
the  Wichita  Valley,  which  is  part  of  this  new 
wheat  country,  can  be  seen  ascending  the 
smoke  of  a  score  of  steam  threshers,  although 
this  is  a  failure  season.  At  Wichita  Falls 


When  the  Comanche  moved  out  of  this  region 
the  cowman  moved  in.  He  had  great  in- 
fluence in  Texas  at  that  time.  He  could  go  to 
Austin  and  convince  the  State  government 
that  whole  counties  in  the  Panhandle  should 
be  classified  as  grazing  land.  The  law  of  the 
State  limits  the  buyer  of  agricultural  land  to 
a  section,  a  mile  square.  But  it  allows  the 
buyer  of  grazing  land  to  buy  in  his  own  name 
seven  sections  upon  extremely  favorable 
terms,  and  it  doesn't  raise  any  technicality  if 
every  member  of  the  family  also  takes  seven 
sections.  The  cowmen  took  possession  of  the 
Panhandle.  They  bought  in  blocks  of  seven, 
at  50c  and  $1  an  acre.  The  school  lands  which 
they  couldn't  buy  they  leased  from  the  State 
and  fenced  in  with  their  great  pastures.  Then 
came  along  the  man  with  a  hoe.  He  looked  at 
the  red  lands,  chocolate-colored  when  moist 
and  like  brick  dust  when  dry.  He  manifested 
an  inclination  to  stir  up  the  soil  and  see  what 
it  would  do.  The  cowmen  resente.d  this  as  an 
intrusion.  They  called  the  man  with  the  hoe 
"  a  nester.' '  That  was  because  he  would  buy 


-  15- 


a  piece  of  the  school  land  and  settle  right 
down  in  the  middle  of  a  big  pasture,  making 
it  necessary  to  allow  roadways  and  to  build 
gates  for  him.  As  the  Comanche  felt 
toward  the  cowman,  so  the  cowman 
felt  toward  the  nester.  But  it  was 
evolution.  The  cowman  might  frighten  the 
nester  away  to-day.  The  next  day  there  were 
two  men  with  hoes  looking  over  the  same 
wire  fence.  The  two  men  might  be  induced 
by  argument  to  believe  that  there  was  noth- 
ing in  it  for  them.  On  the  third  day  four  men 
with  hoes  were  at  the  barbed-wire  fence.  The 
cowboys  whooped  it  up  pretty  lively  for  the 
original  nester.  The  cowman  argued  and 
made  discouraging  laws  for  the  two  nesters. 
When  the  four  man  with  hoes  arrived,  the 
cowman  hired  smooth  talkers  to  help  con- 
vince them  that  agriculture  was  impossible 
in  the  Panhandle.  Perhaps  this  is  the  only 


THE   500-BARREL  MILL   AT   WICHITA    PALLS. 

new  country  where  such  efforts  were  made  to 
keep  people  out.  Men  received  salaries  to  tell 
newcomers  that  farming  was  impossible. 
They  made  it  their  business  for  pay  to  dis- 
courage immigration.  Strangers  on  the  trains 
and  in  the  new  towns  were  sought  out.  They 
were  told  that  nothing  would  grow,  and  if 
anything  did  grow  the  prairie  dogs  would 
eat  it  up.  This  wasn't  a  very  good  article  of 
logic.  Perhaps  the  man  with  the  hoe  thought 
so.  At  any  rate. he  wasn't  altogether  con- 
vinced. He  hung  around.  He  said  he'd  give 
the  red  land  a  whirl.  As  for  the  prairie 
dog,  the  man  with  the  hoe  said  that  while 
waiting  for  his  first  crop  he  would  make  war  on 
that  festive  little  animal  which  sat  upon  its 
hind  legs  and  laughed  a  file-scraping  "he-he- 
he""athim  as  he  went  by.  If  the  tickling  of 
the  soil  hadn't  turned  out  better  than  the  war 
on  the  prairie  dcg,  the  Panhandle  wouldn't 
be  crossed  and  cris-crossed  by  wheat  fields 
to-day.  The  idea  of  the  man  with  the  hoe  was 
to  sell  the  skins  of  the  prairie  dogs  to  the  glove 
manufacturer  and  the  canned  meat  to  China- 
men. The  New  York  glove  manufacturer  ac- 
cepted one  consigment  of  skins  and  quit. 
The  Chinaman  declined  the  meat  with  a  "no 
moochee."  The  prairie  dog  industry  sudden- 
ly and  severely  languished. 


But  the  experiment  with  the  soil— that  was 
altogether  different.  The  Wichita  Valley  is  a 
part  of  the  Panhandle.  From  the  Wichita 
River  stretches  a  bottom  several  miles  wide 
and  as  level  as  the  famous  Red  River  Valley 
of  the  North.  In  this  valley  was  made  the 
notable  experiment  which  knocked  out  the 
cowmen's  double-barreled  argument.  John 
Howard  put  in  400  acres  of  oats,  corn  and 
millet.  The  result  was  a  crop  which  startled 
the  whole  Panhandle.  The  prairie  dogs 
didn't  eat  half  an  acre  of  the  400.  In  fact 
they  showed  their  disgust  at  the  turned-over 
sod  and  moved  on,  thereby  setting  the  cowmen 


THE   MAN   WITH   A   HOE. 


a  lesson.  Not  one  prairie  dog  is  seen  now 
where  there  were  a  thousand  before.  The 
season  following  the  object  lesson  everybody 
went  to  planting.  The  400  acres  bought  for 
$5  an  acre  was  sold  for  $13.  It  was  divided 
into  smaller  farms  and  sold  again  for  $20.  A 
couple  of  years  after  the  experimental  crop 
came  the  discovery  that  the  red  lands  with  a 
world  of  gypsum  underneath  was  a  natural 
wheat  country.  That  settled  the  issue  be- 
tween the  cowman  and  the  man  with  a  hoe. 
In  the  picturesque  language  of  a  pioneer, 
"it  decided  that  the  Panhandle  was  to  be 
no  longer  the  land  of  the  longhorns  and 


-16- 


THBOUGH  TEXAS. 

Twenty -Bushel   Wheat  in    Place 
Twenty- Acre  Cow  Brute. 


of 


A  Cattle  King's  Testimony— Panhandle 

Surprises— The  Romance  of 

Grain  Farming. 

Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

N   THE  PANHANDLE  OP 
TEXAS,       AugUSt     3.  — 

Charles  Goodnight  is 
the  greatest  of  the 
Panhandle  cattle 
kings.  His  ranch,  is 
far  beyond  the  red 
lands  where  wheat 
grows.  It  is  up  in 
the  Panhandle  prop- 
er, upon  the  Staked 
Plains.  But  the  tide 
of  farming  immigra- 
tion has  flowed  al- 
most to  the  Goodnight  pastures. 

"Can  a  farmer  make  a  living  as  far  West  as 
this?"  Mr.  Goodnight  was  asked. 

The  cattle  king  was  here  even  before  the 
Comanches  went  out.  He  has  seen  some  thirty 
summers  come  and  go  in  the  Panhandle.  He 
deliberated  a  little  before  answering  the  ques- 
tion, and  then  he  said: 


acre.  He  has  seen  the  free  grass  disappear 
and  the  wire  fences  extend  like  a  great  web 
all  over  the  plains.  He  has  had  to  drive  his 
herds  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  nearest  ship- 
ping point.  He  now  has  a  railroad  station  in 
his  front  door  yard.  When  he  gets  on  the 
cars  at  Fort  Worth  he  rides  through  a  succes- 
sion of  towns  and  cities  which  five  years  ago 
had  no  existence,  or  at  best  were  only  trading 
posts. 

Twenty  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre  is  what 
the  Panhandle  farmers  claim  this  land  will 
produce  in  good  seasons.  John  W.  Carhart, 
one  of  the  leading  men  of  Clarendon,  sat  upon 
the  vine-covered  porch  of  the  Goodnight  place 
and  said  :  "  The  poorest  yield  of  wheat  around 
Clarendon  last  year  was  12  bushels  to  the 
acre.  I  remember  one  field  of  160  acres  which 
gave  3000  bushels.  The  average  crop  is  about 
20  bushels.  But  I  think  the  best  results  will 
be  obtained  out  here  on  the  edge  of  the  Staked 
Plains  by  combining  some  stock-raising  with 
farming.  There  is  a  belt  of  country  extending 
fifty  miles  east  from  the  eastern  verge  of  the 
plains.  It  has  a  southeastern  exposure.  There 
are  vast  numbers  of  springs.  One  county, 
Donley,  has  at  least  1000  of  them.  This  belt 
presents  the  finest  conditions  for  doing  farm- 
ing that  I  know  of  anywhere.  I  am  from  the 
dairy  region  of  Wisconsin,  and  I  know  just 
what  that  development  has  been.  I  can  say 
that  I  believe  in  this  spring  belt  along 


"Yes,  a  farmer  can  make  a  living  out  here. 
But  he  can't  make  money.  He  may,  by  hard 
work,  do  a  little  better  some  seasons  than  a 
living,  but  he  can't  get  rich.  The  only  way  a 
farmer  can  do  well  here  is  to  combine  stock- 
raising  with  his  farming.' ' 

"Mr.  Goodnight,  how  much  pasture  land  do 
you  allow  for  each  animal  ?  ' ' 

"  Twenty  acres.  " 

Mr.  Goodnight  has  seen  land  in  the  Pan- 
handle go  from  nothing  to  60c  an  acre.  He 
has  seen  the  50c  land  advance  to  $3  and  $5  an 


the  Staked  Plains,  which,  ten  years  ago,  we 
were  taught  to  believe  was  a  desert.  There 
are  finer  conditions  for  dairying  than  Wis- 
consin possesses.  This  short  dry  grass  gives 
a  butter  that  is  better  flavored  than  any  you 
ever  tasted.  People  from  the  blue  grass  and 
clover  dairying  country  say  so.  And  the  con- 
ditions are  such  that  butter  can  be  made 
easier  here  in  this  clear  dry  atmosphere. 
The  creeks  of  the  springs  region  are  set  with 
grapes  and  plums.  Ten  thousand  gallons  of 
wine  goes  to  waste.  In  the  season  when 


grapes  are  ripe  the  ground  along  the  creeks  is 
blue.  Plums  are  hauled  into  Clarendon  by 
the  wagon  load.  I  don't  know  of  a  season 
since  I  have  been  here  that  this  natural  fruit 
has  failed.' ' 

The  Panhandle  is  full  of  surprises,  and  Mr. 
Carharc's  testimony  to  the  existence  of  this 
natural  dairy  country  on  the  edge  of  the 
Staked  Plains  is  one  of  them. 


This  transformation  of  the  Panhandle  is  an 
agricultural  revolution.  The  wonder  is  that 
so  little  has  been  said  about  it.  When  the 
wheat  producing  quality  of  North  Dakota 
lands  was  discovered  the  whole  world  was 
told.  Dalrymple's  farm  was  talked  about, 
described  in  print  and  painted  on  canvas. 
The  Red  River  Valley  of  the  North  became  a 
place  for  pilgrimages.  Well,  there  is  a  Red 
River  Valley  of  the  South,  and  how  many 
people  know  of  it,  except  as  a  region  where 
the  slaves  of  King  Cotton  toil  sixteen  hours  a 
day  with  the  hoe,  the  cultivator  and  the 
patient  mule?  But  that  is  not  the  Red  River 
Valley  of  the  South,  of  which  the  Panhandle 


supply.  So  it  appears  that  the  four  succes- 
sive good  crops  of  wheat  in  the  Panhandle 
were  not  accidents. 

Wheat-raising  is  as  easy  as  improved  meth- 
ods can  make  it  in  the  Panhandle.  At  Vernon, 
one  of  the  smartest  of  these  brand  new  cities, 
there  were  sold  last  season  547  self-binders. 
The  steam  threshing  outfits  are  now  sweeping 
through  the  fields.  It  takes  a  force  of  twenty- 
five  men  and  ten  teams  to  run  one  of  these 
outfits,  while  steam-power  does  the  actual 
threshing.  The  wheat-raiser  has  nothing  to 
do  but  to  open  the  gate  when  the  outfit  ar- 
rives and  to  take  care  of  the  grain  as  it  comes 
from  the  spout  in  a  golden  stream.  It  matters 
not  to  the  threshing  boss  whether  the  grain  is 
in  shock  or  in  stack.  Not  one  in  twenty  of 
the  Panhandle  grain-growers  puts  the  sheaves 
in  stack.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for 
the  grain  if  it  was  done.  But  the 
threshing  outfit  includes  the  men  and 
teams  to  gather  in  the  grain  from 
the  shock.  The  extra  charge  for  threshing 
in  that  way  is  only  2c  a  bushel  on  wheat  and 
Ic  on  oats.  So  the  Panhandle  farmer  relieves 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  GRAIN-GROWING. 


is  part.  A  geological  map  of  Texas  has  as 
many  colors  as  Joseph's  coat.  Just  below  the 
western  half  of  the  Indian  Territory  this  map 
shows  a  great  patch  of  the  color  of  brick  dust. 
It  is  "the  red  lands"  in  scientific  lingo.  The 
red  lands  is  a  natural  wheat  country,  as  much 
so  as  the  Red  River  Valley  of  the  North,  and 
the  dead  levels  of  the  eastern  half  of  North 
Dakota.  There  is  more  of  the  red  lands  in 
square  miles  than  there  is  of  the  North  Dakota 
wheat  region.  Chemistry  explains  the  prac- 
tical results  of  wheat- growing  in  the  red 
lands.  The  gypsum  and  the  other  properties 
which  wheat  wants  are  here  in  extraordinary 


himself  of  one  of  the  most  tedious  features  of 
grain  raising.  The  threshing  boss,  like  Miles 
Standish,  knows  every  man  in  his  army  and 
divides  up  the  work  with  system.  Eight  of  the 
ten  teams  haul  the  sheaves  from  the  field  to 
thresher.  To  one  team  is  assigned  the  duty  of 
keeping  water  in  the  boiler,  and  to  another  is 
given  the  work  of  hauling  fuel.  A  most  im- 
portant part  of  the  outfit  is  the  boarding 
house  on  wheels.  It  is  an  airy-looking  struct- 
ure. The  sides  are  open  and  the  roof  is  of 
canvas.  A  cook  stove  occupies  a  corner,  and 
the  table  accommodations  seat  the  whole 
party.  Most  of  the  threshers  are  farmers' 


-  18  - 


lads  from  the  surrounding  country.  They 
make  quick  and  merry  work  of  what  used  to 
be  the  most  anxious  event  of  the  year  on  the 
grain  farm.  The  new  way  is  a  great  change 
from  the  old.  There  is  no  more  rallying 
of  neighbors  to  exchange  threshing  work. 
Housewives  do  not  work  a  week  preparing  for 
the  threshers  and  another  week  clearing  up 
after  them.  The  farmer  counts  his  bushels 
and  pays  at  the  rate  of  8c  for  wheat  and  4c 
for  oats.  The  threshing  outfit  does  the  rest. 


such  manifestations  of  popular  sentiment.  A 
faint  echo  of  the  whoop  reaches  ' '  the  chuck 
wagon' '  on  the  other  side  of  the  field  handy  to 
the  water.  The  cook  and  his  assistants 
quicken  their  movements  between  the  stove 
and  the  table.  The  boss  looks  at  his  watch 
and  at  the  sun.  He  takes  a  hasty  survey 
of  the  field.  He  gives  no  signal.  Every  man 
sticks  to  his  post  and  the  work  goes  on.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  passes.  The  warning 
whoop  is  heard  again.  Once  more  the  boss 


PANHANDLE  PRODUCTS  AND  THE  MEN  WHO  GROW  THEM. 


When  the  sun  is  nearly  overhead  a  shout 
goes  up  from  some  part  of  the  busy  scene.  It 
is  a  genuine  Texas  whoop,  high-keyed  and 
piercing.  Then  another  answers.  From 
away  down  in  the  field  where  a  wagon  is  load- 
ing comes  a  third  yell.  And  after  a  few 
moments  a  whole  chorus  arises.  All  of  this 
is  by  way  of  intimation  to  the  boss  that  noon- 
time approaches.  He  is  a  wise  boss  who  heeds 


looks  at  his  watch.  Then  he  walks  over  to  the 
engine  and  the  whistle  answers  the  whoop 
with  a  toot.  Work  stops  instanter.  Steam  is 
turned  off.  The  belt  is  dropped.  Teams  are 
unhitched.  There  is  a  race  across  the  field  for 
the  chuck  wagon.  Some  men  are  at  the  table 
as  soon  as  they  can  climb  into  the  wagon,, 
Others  move  with  more  deliberation,  stop- 
ping to  feed  a  team  or  tc  wash,  tnema©Iv®fi> 


-19- 


There  is  a  good  deal  of  human  nature  in  a 
threshing  outfit.  Meantime  the  first  comers 
sit  about  the  loaded,  smoking  table,  but  not 
so  much  as  a  crust  of  bread  is  broken.  The 
lines  along  the  board  fill  in.  Still  nobody 
starts.  Now  and  then  a  warning  cry  of 
"Chuck  in"  is  heard,  but  nobody 
"chucks  in."  All  are  seated  but  one 
man  engaged  on  a  more  elaborate  toilet 
than  the  others  have  made.  "Chuck  in!" 
' '  Chuck  in  !  "  comes  the  warning  again.  ' '  Go 
ahead  !  ' '  responds  the  dude  as  he  raises  a 
piece  of  looking  glass  and  moves  his  head  to 
one  side  and  then  the  other.  The  threshers 
rake  him  at  his  word  and  bread  is  broken  all 
along  the  table.  A  good  commissary  is  as  im- 
portant as  the  water  in  the  boiler  for  a  thresh- 
ing outfit.  When  darkness  comes  the  thresh- 
ers lie  down  upon  little  heaps  of  straw  in  the 
stubble,  with  the  Milky  Way  for  a  coverlet. 
Out-of-door  sleeping  is  no  hardship  in  the 


land  on  shares.  From  that  we  made  enough 
to  buy  two  sections  of  land  at  $5  an  acre.  On 
that  land  we  made  $6,000  worth  of  crops.  We 
have  sold  our  land  for  $20  an  acre  and  are 
going  into  the  next  COUP  Ly  to  get  cheaper  land 
and  start  again.  Wa  are  worth  $15,003 
apiece,  and  every  dollar  of  it  except  the  $9 
that  was  in  the  party  when  we  came  here  has 
been  made  in  the  Panhandle.  Noboby  could 
get  me  to  leave  the  Panhandle. ' ' 

It  is  four  parts  romance  and  luck  with  one 
part  work,  this  grain  growing  in  the  Pan- 
handle. With  six  mules  and  a  gang  plow  the 
farmer  turns  a  wide  strip  of  the  red  lands 
every  trip  across  the  field.  There  were  sold 
108  of  these  big  gang  plows  in  a  single  Pan- 
handle town  this  season.  And  with  these 
went  260  drills.  The  Panhandle  farmer 
quadruples  the  work  of  the  old  single  furrow; 
he  rides  his  drill  and  his  work  is  done  until 
the  ripening  grain  calls  for  the  binder,  which 


A   PANHANDLE    CIVILIZEB. 


Panhandle  country.  Thousands  do  it  as  a 
matter  of  comfort  and  preference.  No  dew 
worth  mentioning  falls.  A  steady  dry  breeze 
blows  from  the  South.  Such  a  thing  as  a  cold 
caught  in  this  way  is  almost  unknown.  The 
largest  cattle  king  in  the  Panhandle 
has  an  upper  room  in  his  house  with  three 
sides  left  open,  and  there  he  spends  the  most 
of  his  summer  nights.  All  through  the  Pan- 
handle cots  and  shake- downs  may  be  seen 
outside  of  the  houses.  Camping  is  a  luxury  in 
this  climate. 

While  his  men  ate  a  threshing  boss  told  his 
story.  "My  name  is  Heagle,"  he  said,  "and 
I  am  from  Algiers.  One  day  ten  of  us  came  to 
Wichita  Falls.  We  couldn't  speak  a  word  of 
English.  We  had  just  $9  among  us.  Our  in- 
tention was  to  go  to  Wilbarger  County,  but 
the  Wichita  River  was  up,  and  while  we  waited 
for  it  to  go  down  we  arran  ?ed  to  take  some 


drops  the  sheaves  by  half  dozens.  Shocking 
is  the  only  hand  work.  Then  comes  the 
threshing  outfit,  leaving  to  the  farmer  noth- 
ing more  to  do  but  to  haul  his  product  to  the 
nearest  town.  With  such  methods  explained 
the  stories  told  on  the  Panhandle  are  not  so 
incredible.  For  instance,  it  is  related  that 
one  man  and  a  boy  16  years  old  produced 
10,000  bushels  of  grain  in  a  single  season. 
Such  methods  and  such  a  country  where  the 
gang  plow  can  run  every  month  in  the  year, 
tell  the  reason  why  there  is  no  more  "dollar 
wheat."  It  isn't  option  trading  that  is 
knocking  the  bottom  out  of  prices.  The  Pan- 
handle has  only  just  begun.  It  hasn't  struck 
its  gait  as  a  grain-producing  region.  Five 
years  hence,  look  out  for  the  Panhandle. 

The  people  of  Wichita  Falls  preserve  three 
pictures  illustrating  their  three  eras.  In  the 
first  picture  there  are  two  log  houses  on  a 


-20- 


prairie.  That  was  the  first  era.  On  the  sec- 
ond picture  is  a  single  street,  a  row  of  saloons 
and  a  group  of  cowboys.  That  is  the  second 
era.  The  third  picture  is  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
a  well-built  city  of  4,000  people,  with  a  big 
court  house  and  a  bigger  school  house, 
church  spires,  mills  and  elevators,  $7,000  resi- 
dences, a  wholesale  grocery  doing  a  business 
of  $50,000  a  month,  and  other  things  to 
match.  The  three  eras  are  embraced  in  a  de- 
cade. 'In  1887  Wichita  Palls  had  400  voters . 
In  1889  she  had  800  voters.  In  1892  she  has 
1,600  voters.  Five  years  ago  a  good  month's 
business  for  the  railroad  station  was  $5,000. 
Now  it  is  from  $50,000  to  $80,000.  The  idea  of 
making  the  school  house  larger  than  the  court 
house  is  purely  Panhandle.  The  court  house 
hobby  may  not  be  of  Texas  origin,  but  it 
finds  strong  development  here.  A  Texas 
county  seat  which  hasn't  a  big  court  house 
isn't  satisfied  until  it  gets  one.  And  the  more 
brick  and  mortar  and  cupola  that  can  be 
heaped  up  the  happier  is  the  community. 
There  probably  isn't  another  State  in  the 
Union  which  has  so  many  court  houses  and 
so  much  money  invested  in  court  house 
architecture  in  proportion  to  wealth  and  pop- 
ulation. But  the  Panhandle  is  New  Texas. 
When  Wichita  Falls  got  ready  to  build  some- 
thing to  astonish  the  natives,  she  put  up  a 
$25,000  school  house  on  a  fine  square  in  the 
very  center  of  the  city.  She  provided  for  nine 
months  of  free  school.  After  that  she  built  a 
substantial  Court  House,  but  it  isn't  as  large 
as  the  school  house.  The  Panhandle  theory  is 
that  if  the  school  house  is  large  the  com- 
munity will  not  need  such  a  fine  court  house. 
There  are  parts  of  Texas  where  not  so  very 
long  ago  it  took  nerve  to  advocate  free  schools 
for  more  than  three  months.  It  takes  nerve 
now  in  the  Panhandle  not  to  advocate  free 
schools  for  nine  months. 

The  Panhandle  abounds  in  ambitious  towns. 
Just  beyond  Wichita  Falls  is  Iowa  Park.  Less 
than  five  years  ago  two  Iowa  msn  came  down 
here  prospecting.  One  of  them,  Mr.  Kolp, 
had  been  Speaker  of  the  Iowa  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives. The  other,  Mr.  Kennedy,  had 
been  a  member  of  the  same  body.  They  found 
a  body  of  school  lands,  17,000  acres,  which 
belonged  to  Tarrant  County.  This  tract  they 
acquired  at  from  $4  to  $6  an  acre.  In  1888 
they  laid  out  a  town.  Four  years  ago  there 
wasn't  a  house  on  the  site,  and  now  there  are 
1,200  people,  with  a  mill,  a  couple  of  elevators 
and  brick  business  blocks.  The  grain  elevator 
is  as  much  a  feature  of  these  Panhandle  towns 
as  it  is  of  the  North  Dakota  community.  Ver- 
non,  Quanah,  Childress,  Memphis,  Claren- 
don, Washburn,  Amarillo,  and  even  the 
smaller  towns  between  have  prepared  to  han- 
dle grain.  Many  of  these  towns  are  even 
younger  than  Iowa  Park.  Several  are  healthy 
infants  of  two  years'  and  eighteen  months' 
growth.  W.  B.  8. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


How  the  Newest  City  of  the  Panhandle 
Got  a  Move  on  Itself. 


A  Lone  Court  House— Tarrant  County's 

Campaign  of  Education— Old  Texas 

— Greer  County  to  the  Front. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

IN  THE  PANHANDLE  OP  TEXAS,  August  5.— 
Amarillo  is  the  newest  of  the  Panhandle 
cities.  The  waiter  at  the  Hotel  asks  you  if 
you  will  have  your  eggs  '  •  standing  up. ' ' 
You  pay  the  gentlemanly  "  barkeep ' '  15c 
for  a  glass  of  pop  if  the  imposing  analysis  of 
the  water  scares  you.  The  water  comes 
from  a  depth  of  over  200  feet,  and  is  raised 
by  windmills,  which  on  the  plains  can  be 
guaranteed  to  run  twenty-three  hours  out  of 
the  twenty-four,  and  about  364  days  in  the 
year.  The  water  looks  and  tastes  all  right. 
Nobody  ever  experienced  any  ill  results  from 
it.  But  in  an  evil  hour  somebody  had  it 
analyzed  and  paraded  the  analysis  in  big 
type  as  a  thing  to  be  proud  of.  When  the 
newcomer  reads  all  about  the  potassium  and 
the  sodium  and  the  sulphur  he  steers  forth- 
with for  one  of  the  six  saloons  in  a  single 
block  of  the  main  street,  and  invests  15c 
in  a  quarter-of- a- cent's  worth  of  pop.  The 
saloon  business  is  a  great  industry  in 
Amarillo  and  will  continue  to  be  so  long  as 
the  saloon  trust  continues. 

Young  as  she  is,  Amarillo  has  had  two 
sites.  The  original  town  company  located 
on  a  slope  two  miles  west  of  where  the  town 
now  stands.  About  1200  people  established 
themselves  there.  As  is  usual  in  Texas  and 
some  other  countries,  the  first  thing  the  new 
community  did  when  it  felt  its  strength  was 
to  vote  about  $25,000  for  a  court  house. 
This  was  expected  to  anchor  the  county  seat 
and  the  town  for  all  time  to  come.  The 
Court  House  was  built,  and  a  good  one  it  is 
for  the  money. 

But  a  man  who  owns  a  pasture  of  250,000 
acres  decided  that  the  town  had  been  put  in 
the  wrong  place.  It  was  in  "a  draw."  The 
right  location  was  two  miles  further  east  on  an 
eligible  elevation.  To  the  proposition  to  move 
the  town  said  "no."  The  pasture  man  went 
ahead  and  laid  out  a  new  site.  He  built  a 
hotel  that  was  bigger  and  cost  50  per  cent 
more  than  the  Court  House.  For  a  few  weeks 
there  was  an  interesting  game  of  tug  between 
Court  House  and  hotel  two  miles  apart.  Ac- 
cording to  Texas  tradition  the  Court  House 
should  have  won.  A  county  seat  is  located  by 
vote  on  a  specified  section  of  land  for  five 
years,  and  there  it  must  stay  till  the  last  day 
of  the  fifth  year.  The  pasture  man  was  from 
the  North.  He  said  he  was  willing  to  spend 


-21  - 


$100,000  to  put  Amarillo  where  it  belonged, 
and  he  did  it.  After  he  had  built  his  big  hotel 
—big  for  this  region— he  bought  the  hotel  in 
the  original  Amarillo,  put  it  on  wheels,  moved 
it  over  to  the  new  site,  located  it  across  a 
little  park,  and  called  it  the  annex.  The 
pasture  man's  father-in-law  is  an  Illinois 
barb- wire  millionaire.  He  came  down 
and  looked  on.  He  said  he  didn't 
know  much  about  town-site  wars, 
but  he  would  back  the  new  location.  The 
pasture  man  dug  wells  and  built  houses. 
Every  week  or  two  he  drove  over  to  old  Ama- 
rillo, bought  a  store,  put  it  on  wheels  and 
hauled  it  over  to  new  Amarillo.  There  was 
no  shouting  or  hurrahing.  But  month  by 
month  the  old  town  melted  away  and  the  new 
town  grew.  To-day  the  Court  House  is  all 
thatmarks  the  original  site.  It  stands  alone  on 
the  prairie.  It  can't  be  moved  under  the  law. 


eral  miles  of  mains.  Amarillo,  to  begin  with, 
was  essentially  a  stockmen's  town,  but  the 
inevitable  man  with  the  hoe  has  ar- 
rived and  js  disposed  to  see  what  he  can  do. 
The  Campbellite  minister,  who  moved  to  the 
Panhandle  from  near  Sedalia,  Mo.,  a  garden 
spot  if  there  is  one  on  the  footstool,  came 
into  town  one  day  this  week  with  beards  of 
wheat  all  over  him. 

"What  have  you  been  doing,  brother?"  a 
church  member  asked. 

'  "Threshing  my  wheat,"  replied  the  minis- 
ter triumphantly. 

' '  How  much  did  it  go  ?"  asked  the  member. 

"  Sixty  bushels, ' '  said  the  minister. 

"Wha-at?"  ejaculated  the  brother. 

"I  mean  sixty  bushels  on  the  eight  acres,  " 
explained  the  minister,  with  a  laugh.  "But  I 
lost  at  least  two  bushels  an  acre  by  letting  it 
get  too  ripe.  I'm  not  discouraged.  I  raised 


AMARILLO — SKETCHED    FROM   DEPOT. 


If  it  could  be,  the  father  of  the  new  town  would 
have  moved  it  long  ago.  The  county  officers 
walk  two  miles  to  the  Court  House  and  back 
again  every  day.  As  they  go  over  in  the  morn- 
ing they  often  see  a  beautiful  mirage— houses, 
trees,  lakes  and  the  shadows  of  a  city.  When 
they  get  to  the  Court  House  the  vision  fades 
and  there  is  nothing  but  bare  prairie  and  the 
holes  where  the  houses  stood. 

The  end  of  the  fifth  year  approaches,  and  the 
fate  of  the  lone  Court  House  is  already  deter- 
mined. A  square  in  the  center  of  new  Ama- 
rillo has  been  set  apart  for  a  new  and  larger 
county  seat  anchor.  The  old  Court  House, 
brick,  mortar  and  all,  will  be  put  on  wheels 
and  hauled  to  the  new  town.  When  wings 
shall  have  been  added  it  will  become  a 
college. 

The  pasture  man  is  self-willed,  but  he  is 
something  of  a  philanthropist.  He  has  given 
the  new  town  a  water  works  system  with  sev- 


this  in  a  bad  season  on  ground  which  had  the 
sod  turned  only  last  year.  I'm  going  to  sow 
again  this  fall.  We'll  raise  wheat  in  Potter 
County  yet.  I'm  told  there  are  50,000  bush- 
els of  wheat  that  would  be  marketed  right 
here  in  Amarillo  if  we  only  had  a  mill."  ^ 

The  Frying  Pan  ranch  comes  right  up  to  the 
edge  of  Amarillo.  In  it  are  250,000  acres.  The 
owner  has  recently  said  to  his  agent :  "  I  won '  t 
stand  in  the  way  of  settlers.  They  can  have 
the  land  if  they  want  it.  When  Texas  land 
was  selling  at  $2  an  acre  and  money  could  be 
borrowed  at  6  and  8  per  cent,  I  was  a  buyer. 
Now  that  land  is  worth  $4,  I  am  a  seller. 
I  have  made  more  money,  perhaps,  than  I  am 
entitled  to."  During  the  summer  this  man 
has  sold  over  twenty  sections  -  of  640  acres 
each  in  various  counties  of  the  Panhandle 
for  $4  an  acre.  There  came  an  order  this  week 
from  Denver  for  a  section  at  $2.50  an  acre,  to 
be  within  ten  miles  of  Amarillo.  The  real 


22- 


agents  couldn't  fill  it.  Amarillo  is 
Spanish.  It  should  be  pronounced  Am-a-re-o. 
The  inhabitants  are  Americans,  and  they  ad- 
here to  the  American  pronunciation. 


Up  and  down  the  Panhandle  the  Texans  are 
praying  that  the  title  of  Greer  County  may  be 
vested  in  the  United  States.  This  may  sound 
strange  to  those  who  know  how  proud 
Texans  are  of  their  State's  bigness.  Greer 
County  is  either  the  southwestern  corner  of 
Indian  Territory,  or  else  it  is  the  elbow  of  the 
Panhandle.  The  United  States  claims  Greer 


portunity  for  a  question  about  which  fork 
was  treated  as  the  main  river.  So  long  as  no- 
body wanted  Greer  County  land  neither  the 
United  States  nor  Texas  manifested  much  in- 
terest in  settling  the  fork  problem.  But  after 
the  Comanches  were  corraled  on  a  reservation 
and  the  cowmen  divided  up,  the  Panhandle 
squatters  began  to  drift  in  between  the  forks 
of  the  Red. 

The  American  creates  government  wherever 
he  goes.  No  matter  how  new  or  isolated  the 
settlement,  the  next  thing  after  the  staking 
out  of  the  claims  is  the  erection  of  some  form 


COWBOYS    AT   LUNCI1. 


county.  So  does  Texas.  She  has  recognized 
the  county  organization  which  the  squatters 
have  set  up.  In  conventions  and  in  other 
formal  ways  Greer  County  is  conceded  repre- 
sentation. But  this  is  pending  a  decison  as 
to  the  ownership.  All  Texas  maps  show  the 
State  line  running  around  to  the  north  of 
Greer.  All  United  States  maps  trace  the  Texas 
boundary  south  of  Greer.  The  sole  question 
is  which  is  Red  River?  Red  River  divides  In- 
dian Territory  from  Texas.  There  is  no  dis- 
pute as  to  where  the  river  runs  un- 
til the  forks  are  reached.  Texas  insists 
that  one  fork  is  the  main  river. 
The  United  States  considers  the  other  fork  the 
main  river.  And  it  makes  just  the  difference 
of  Greer  County  which  is  right.  Greer  lies  be- 
tween the  forks.  Forty-six  years  ago  the  in- 
dependent Republic  of  Texas  was  annexed  to 
the  United  States.  Nobody  at  that  time  had 
ever  heard  of  Greer  County.  The  issue  of  the 
forks  of  Red  River  had  not  been  raised.  Some 
time  in  the  remote  past  a  boundary  commis- 
sion went  up  Red  River.  The  work  was  done 
in  such  an  ill-defined  way  that  it  left  the  op- 


of  organization  which  will  give  semblance  of 
stability  to  title  and  which  will  insure  law 
and  order.  Foreign  anarchists  and  Socialists 
run  up  against  this  strong  American  trait  and 
surprise  themselves.  The  squatters  in  Greer 
County  did  not  stop  to  ask  "under  which 
king."  They  set  up  an  organization  and  chose 
a  county  seat.  Many  of  them  being  from 
Texas,  and  Texas  being  willing,  they  attached 
themselves  for  the  time  being  to  Texas. 

This  Greer  County  is  an  exceedingly  well- 
favored  country.  It  has  as  good  soil  as  the 
Panhandle  wheat  belt,  and  it  is  better  watered 
than  some  parts  of  the  Panhandle.  It  has 
raised  this  year  2,000,000  bushels  of  wheat, 
and  the  three  new  mills  and  the  three  new  el- 
evators which  form  an  impressive  group  at 
Quanah,  in  the  Panhandle,  are  a  tribute  to 
Greer  County's  growing  importance.  Quanah 
is  named  for  the  Comanche  chief,  and  with 
Vernon,  shares  the  most  of  the  Greer  County 
trade.  If  the  United  States  gets  Greer  the 
squatters  will  accommodate  themselves  to  the 
homestead  law  and  get  160  acres  apiece.  If 
Texas  sustains  her  claim,  the  farmers  con- 


-23- 


tributing  this  crop  of  2,000,000  bushels  of 
wheat  will  be  entitled  to  buy  on  the  easy  terms 
of  the  Texas  land  law  64C  acres  apiece.  That 
is  the  reason  the  Panhandle  towns  hope  the 
United  States  will  win.  They  want  a  country 
of  160- acre  farms  right  beside  them  to  show 
how  much  better  is  the  policy  of  small  farms. 
And  the  most  of  the  Panhandle  lawyers  say 
there  is  no  doubt  the  United  States  will  prove 
the  South  Fork  is  the  main  river  and  that 
Greer  County  is  outside  of  Texas.  -  To-day, 
where  the  Denver  road  crosses  Red  River,  just 
beyond  the  corner  of  Greer,  there  is  not  a 
drop  of  water  in  sight — only  an  expanse  of 
fiery  red  silt  and  sand  half  a  mile  wide  be- 
tween low  banks.  But  a  storm  on  the  plains 
or  in  the  mountains  may  send  7  feet  of  boil- 
ing red  mud  rolling  down  the  channel  in  a  few 
hours.  So  it  depends  on  temporary  circum- 
stances which  is  Red  River  and  which  is  the 
fork  that  doesn't  count.  A  settlement  of  the 


meadows  give  place  to  pastures  bounded  only 
by  the  horizon.  At  Calef,  fourteen  miles 
north  of  Forth  Worth,  there  are  just  five 
houses  in  sight  on  perhaps  10,000  acres 
of  land.  This  is  not  the  red 
lands  or  the  Panhandle  country.  It  is  Tar- 
rant  County,  of  which  Fort  Worth  is  the  seat. 
Tarrant  County  is  where  the  idea  of  smaller 
farms  and  more  people  is  being  agitated  with 
a  great  deal  of  vigor.  Somebody  asked  Mr. 
Peter  Smith,  the  ex- May  or  of  Fort  Worth, 
how  much  land  a  certain  resident  of  the  coun- 
ty had.  "He  hasn't  much,"  Mr.  Smith  re- 
plied; "only  about  1,000  acres."  That  illus- 
trates the  Texas  idea  of  a  small  farm.  Upon 
the  public  domain  the  United  States  considers 
160  acres  enough  for  a  homestead.  Texas  kept 
all  of  her  land  when  she  became  one  of  the 
States  in  1846,  and  she  gave  it  away  or  sold  it 
in  great  blocks  for  many  yoars.  Having  grown 
somewhat  economical,  Texas  now  sells  only  a 


A  GROUP  OF  COWBOYS. 


boundary  dispute  will  come  before  the  end  of 
the  year  it  is  thought.  People  who  con- 
tribute 2,000,000  bushels  of  wheat  to  the 
visible  supply  must  be  given  a  political  status. 
They  may  count  in  Oklahoma's  early  claim 
for  statehood. 


The  traveler  leaving  Fort  Worth  for  the  Pan- 
handle country  rides  almost  due  north  for  a 
couple  of  hours.  He  sees  wheat  fields  stretch- 
ing away  in  the  distance.  Great  straw  piles 
loom  up  like  pyramids.  The  steam  threshers 
toot  a  cheerful  salute  as  the  train  rushes  by. 
One  of  these  threshers  turned  out  1611  bush- 
els of  wheat  on  Wednesday,  and  then  broke 
its  own  record  on  Saturday  with  1624  bushels. 
This  kind  of  work  was  made  possible  by  wheat 
giving  twenty-five  bushels  to  the  acre.  After 
the  wheat  fields  come  natural  meadows,  on 
which  the  baled  hay  is  piled  up  as  high  as  a 
horse  and  left  almost  wholly  unprotected, 
with  a  firm  faith  in  favoring  weather.  The 


section  of  agricultural  land,  or  640  aciv^,  to 
one  person— four  times  what  the  General  Gov- 
ernment allows.  There  is  one  man  in  Tarrant 
County  who  has  9,000  acres.  He  has  fenced 
his  farm,  but  he  cultivates  only  200  acres. 
There  are  others  who  haven't  quite  so  much, 
but  they  have  enough  to  make  Tarrant  County 
look  like  a  grazing  country,  whereas  "the  fact 
is,"  said  Gen.  Clark,  of  Fort  Worth,  "we 
have  as  fine  farming  land  as  can  be  found  any- 
where." 

The  man  with  the  9,000  acres  has  declared 
his  willingness  to  cut  this  farm  up  and  sell  it 
in  alternate  blocks.  The  Fort  Worth  Board  of 
Trade  is  carrying  on  a  campaign  of  education 
to  make  this  change  from  pastures  to  farms 
general.  According  to  the  census  figures  Tar- 
rant County  has  added  only  fifty-eight  to  her 
agricultural  population  in  ten  years.  Fort 
Worth  grew  16,413  in  the  decade,  but  the 
county  outside  of  the  city  practically  stood 
still.  The  people  in  the  city  have  reached  a 


24 


logical  conclusion  that  their  future  growth 
depends  upon  a  change  in  the  agricultural,  or 
rather  non- agricultural,  conditions  of  the 
county.  Hence  the  campaign.  Like  most  oth- 
er campaigns  of  education,  this  is  not  alto- 
gether encouraging.  Texans  let  go  of  land, 
even  when  they  are  land- poor,  with  reluct- 
ance. A  man  who  has  5,000  acres  worth  $12 
now,  and  that  is  about  the  Tarrant  County  es- 
timate of  the  big  pastures;  can  hardly  bring 
himself  to  sell  2,500  acres  at  $12,  though  it  is 
made  clear  to  him  it  will  bring  in  people  and 
make  the  remaining  2,500  worth  $24. 


THE  LONE  COURT  HOUSE  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


The  Panhandle,  in  spite  of  the  progress  of 
the  man  with  the  hoe,  has  the  pasture  prob- 
lem to  deal  with.  There  isn't  much  doubt 
what  the  final  result  will  be.  Until  he  got  the 
Cor-.--  he  out  the  cowman  did  not  rest,  and 
Wi  .  _.ae  same  aggressive,  not  to  say  extermi- 
nating spirit,  the  farmer  is  now  camping  on 
the  trail  of  the  cowman.  The  famous  red 
lands  stretch  from  the  Red  River  southwest. 
A  tongue  reaches  the  Concho.  The  main  body 
extends  on  the  northwest  to  Clarendon.  But 
still  farther  into  the  Panhandle  the  man  with 
the  hoe  has  pushed  his  way.  He  may  not  find 
natural  wheat  country  all  over  Northwestern 
Texas,  but  he  has  the  faith  of  a  pioneer  that 
he  can  raise  something, 


The  land  which  the  cowman  got  at  50c  and 
$1  is  now  worth  from  $6  to  $10  an  acre  at  a 
distance  of  five  to  seven  miles  from  town. 
Within  three  and  four  miles  of  town  it  is 
worth  $10  and  $15  an  acre.  The  State,  at  the 
instance  of  the  cowman,  classed  it  as  grazing 
land.  The  man  with  a  hoe,  after  five  years' 
cropping  says  that  75  per  cent  of  it  is  farming 
land  and  only  25  per  cent  pasture. 

"This  is  land,"  said  John  Howard,  of 
Wichita  Falls,  "which,  with  average  seasons, 
will  pay  for  itself,  for  the  labor  and  for  the 
seed  in  two  years.  That  is  something  I  don't 
believe  can  be  done  in  any  other  State  in  the 
Union.  What  I've  done  others  will  do.  I've 
given  an  Iowa  man  a  three  years'  lease  on 
some  land  of  mine.  He  fences,  improves  and 
has  all  he  can  raise  for  three  years.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  the  fencing  is  mine.  If  he 
puts  up  a  house  I  pay  him  for 
that.  With  the  kk,d  of  crops  we 
have  had  for  five  years  that  man  will 
make  enough  to  pay  him  for  his  labor  and 
to  buy  him  some  land  at  the  end  of  the  three 
years.  This  plan  gives  a  man  from  the  North 
a  chance  to  try  the  country  and  see  if  he  likes 
it.  Texans  won '  t  take  the  land  on  such  terms , 
but  Northern  men  will.  The  latter  don't  like 
to  go  in  debt  and  are  timid  about  settling  here 
permanently  without  a  trial.  By  giving  the 
entire  use  of  the  land  for  that  term  of  years 
we  interest  a  tenant  in  cultivating  it 
well." 

It  isn't  much  wonder  that  Northern  men 
hesitate  to  take  the  Panhandle  on  faith.  A 
few  years  ago  the  banner  wheat  county  of 
this  region  was  known  far  and  wide  as 
"  Wicked  Wilbarger.' '  Civilization  goes  with 
wheat.  Judge  Orr  and  some  associates  went 
down  to  Austin  and  persuaded  the  State 
authorities  that  Wilbarger  should  be  classed 
as  agricultural  lands.  Two  or  three  other 
counties  in  the  Panhandle  were  equally  sue  - 
cessful.  The  result  was  the  selling  of  their 
lands  in  single  sections,  thicker  settlement, 
more  wheat  and  less  wickedness.  It  was 
'  Wicked  Wilbarger' '  showed  55.28  per  cent, 
increase  of  population  by  the  new  census. 
Adjoining  counties  of  the  same  kind  of  land 
were  not  so  fortunate.  At  Austin  the  cowmen 
were  too  quick  for  the  man  with  the  hoe;  the 
land  was  classed  as  grazing  and  sold  in  blocks 
of  seven  sections.  There  the  fight  against  the 
pastures  Is  still  "on* 

TVc  3,  9.. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


The  First  Round-Up  for  Law  and  Order 
in  the  Panhandle. 

A  Hundred   Killings— Tascosa's   Grand 

Jury— Memories  of  Boot  Hill— The 

Great     X.     I.     T.— Pasture 

Disintegration. 

Special  correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

N  THE  PANHANDLE  OF 
TEXAS,  August  7.— 
There  hasn't  been 
an  interment  on 
Boot  Hill  for  more 
than  two  years. 
Things  have  changed 
since  Henry  King 
died.  Tascosa,  once 
"  the  toughest  town ' ' 
of  the  Panhandle, 
has  a  big  new  Court 
House.  If  the  ghost 
of  Billy  the  Kid 
could  come  back  it 

would  find  but  one  familiar  Landmark— Boot 
Hill.  The  Denver  train  steams  into  and  out 
of  Tascosa  about  the  hour  that  graveyards 
yawn.  Not  a  single  pistol  shot  disturbs  the 
slumbers  of  the  passengers. 


came  to  Tascosa  a  hundred  miles  and  more  to 
get  supplies.  And  they  didn't  leave  without 
having  had  what  they  called  "  a  wide  time. ' ' 
Tascosa  was  the  meeting  point  where 
troubles  were  settled  long-before  a  stone  court 
house  with  a  cupola  was  thought  of.  The 
feuds  of  the  ranches,  the  disputes  between 
cowboys  and  gamblers,  the  rivalries  over 
favors  of  frail  creatures,  all  came  to  an  issue 
at  Tascosa.  And  when  the  arbitrament  of 
navy  sixes  had  been  pronounced  there  was  an 
addition  to  be  made  to  the  population  of  Boot 
Hill.  The  pessimists  say  that  epitaphs  lie. 
The  records  on  the  head  boards  of  Boot  Hill 
faithfully  record  history.  Boot  Hill  is  a  sight- 
ly knoll  a  little  way  out  of  Tascosa.  Only 
those  who  died  with  their  boots  on  were  en- 
titled to  a  place  on  the  hill.  Life  was  too 
practical  in  the  Panhandle  to  encourage  the 
erection  of  elaborate  monuments-  A  board 
was  deemed  sufficiently  permanent.  On  it 
was  inscribed  enough  to  remind  the  friends 
and  to  warn  the  enemies  of  the  deceased. 
Many  of  the  boards  have  fallen  down  or  have 
disappeared.  Perhaps  they  lasted  long  enough 
to  serve  their  double  purpose. 

Perhaps  it  was  grand  juries  and  courts. 
More  likely  it  was  wheat- raising  and  the  man 
with  the  hoe  which  wrought  the  revolution  in 
the  value  of  human  life.  But  to-day  no  man 
need  carry  a  gun  on  his  hip  in  the  Pan- 
handle. There  is  a  detachment  of  rangers 


^^^-^SK^^ 


A  WICHITA  FALLS    MELON  FIELD. 


Tascosa,  Mexican  by  name  and  American  by 
adoption,  is  one  of  the  oldest  settlements  in 
the  Panhandle.  For  years  it  was  the  outfit- 
ting post  of  a  great  cow  country.  Ranchers 


up  here.     The  officer  in  command  is  Lieut. 
Britton. 

"We  haven't  much  to  do  now,"  the  Lieu- 
tenant said,  as  he  leaned  on  the  gate  of  tbe 


corral,  "beyond  helping  the  Sheriff  to  over- 
take fugitives  from  justice.  We  make  scouts 
cover  the  country  to  see  what  is  going  on  and 
occasionally  we  are  called  on  to  run  down  a 
murder.  But  the  work  is  nothing  like  what 
it  was  a  few  years  ago.  There  is  no  train  rob- 
bing. We  haven't  had  a  case  of  shooting  out 
the  lights  in  a  long  time.  Now  and  then  a 
cowboy  conies  to  town  and  gets  full.  Perhaps 
he  will  begin  to  make  a  noise.  We  go  to  him 
and  take  him  by  the  arm  and  tell  him  it  won't 
do.  He  usually  quiets  down  and  that  is  all 
there  is  of  it." 

There  is  still  some  big  ranching  in  the  Pan- 
handle. From  the  northern  boundary  of  the 
State  one  fence  extends  210  miles  due  south. 
This  isn't  as  great  as  the  distance  from  St. 
Louis  to  Chicago,  but  it  is  a  good  part  of  it. 
This  single  fence  belongs  to  one  company.  It 
bounds  the  east  line  of  the  possessions  of  the 
X.  I.  T.  There  is  another  fence  on  the  west 
side,  and  there  are  cross  fences  dividing  this, 
the  largest  fenced  pasture  in  the  world,  into 
divisions.  On  each  division  is  a  big  house,  a 
superintendent  and  a  force  of  men.  It  re- 
quires 125  men  to  run  this  ranch.  The  small- 
est of  the  pasture  divisions  contains  470,000 
acres.  Last  year  50,000  calves  were  branded 
on  this  ranch.  Yet  the  chief  owner  in  this 
magnificent  property  "wishes  he  had  never 
seen  a  cow  brute."  His  name  is  Farwell,  and 
he  is  a  merchant  prince  in  Chicago.  Years 
ago,  when  Texas  had  more  land  than  any- 
thing else,  she  proclaimed  through  the 
newspapers  that  she  would  give  so 
many  million  acres  of  land  for  a  State 
Capitol  so  big.  It  was  a  novel  .proposition. 
Takers  were  found  in  the  Farwells,of  Chicago; 
Abner  Taylor  the  present  Congressman,  and 
his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Babcock,  an  Illinois 
banker.  These  gentlemen  built  a  Capitol  of 
the  length,  breadth  and  height  specified  in 
the  bond,  and  they  got  their  pay  in  this  Pan- 
handle pasture,  210  miles  long.  Texas  lands 
went  up  and  down  and  up  again  while  the 
Capitol  was  building.  The  then  unfenced  and 
unstocked  pasture  was  worth  at  one  time 
twice  what  the  Capitol  cost.  It  was  worth  at 
another  time,  when  the  bottom  fell  out  of  the 
cattle  business,  less  than  the  Capitol  cost.  It 
would  sell  now  for  enough  to  build  half  a 
dozen  capitols. 

The  "nester"  has  not  yet  tackled  the 
Capitol  syndicate  land,  but  there  is  hardly  a 
Texas  pasture  east  of  the  210  miles  fence  in 
which  farmers  have  not  found  foothold.  Cow- 
men can  acquire  great  blocks  of  land,  but 
they  often  have  to  inclose  with  their  pur- 
chases the  school  sections,  for  the  use 
of  which  they  pay  rental.  The  nester 
comes  along'v  and  begins  farming  on 
one  of  the  school  sections.  Whenever 
the  school  section  is  wanted  for  agricultural 
purposes  the  cowman's  lease  expires.  For  the 
nester' s  accommodation  the  pasture  owner 


must  put  in  gates  and  allow  roadways.  This 
is  one  way  in  which  the  disintegration  of  the 
large  pastures  begins.  Texas  has  had  a  land 
policy  full  of  inconsistencies.  Some  of  these 
results  may  be  seen  in  a  ride  through  the  Pan- 
handle. For  example,  between  Vernon  and 
Wichita  Falls  the  wheat  fields  extend  on 
either  side  of  the  Denver  road  as  far  as  the 
vision  reaches.  East  of  Wichita  Falls  the 
right  of  way  is  bounded  by  wire  fences,  and 
beyond  is  the  virgin  prairie,  with  here  and 
there  a  fresh  breaking  or  a  new  house.  The 
difference  is  that  in  one  case  the  farmer  got 
in  his  work  at  Austin,  and  in  the  other  the 
cowman  had  the  ear  of  the  Administration. 
In  one  case  the  county  was  classed  as  agri- 
cultural. In  the  other,  although  the  land 
was  of  precisely  the  same  character,  the 
decision  was  "grazing."  One  man  could 
buy  a  single  section  only  of  agri- 
cultural land.  He  could  obtain  seven  sections 
of  grazing.  And  so  one  county  was  turned 
into  wheat  fields  and  another  into  pastures. 
East  of  Wichita  Falls  the  railroad  runs  through 
a  pasture  of  17,000  acres  good  for  twenty- 
four  bushels  of  wheat  in  the  average  season. 
This  pasture  might,  for  all  of  the  purposes  of 
town  growth  and  railroad  traffic,  have  been  a 
desert.  But  it  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  a 
Nebraska  man  and  an  Iowa  man,  and  they 
are  turning  it  into  farms  at  $8  and  $10  an 
acre.  North  of  Wichita  Falls  and  Iowa  Park 
lies  a  barrier  in  the  form  of  a  pasture  of  25,- 
000  acres.  This  pasture  comes  down  to  with- 
in three  miles  of  the  Falls.  It  belongs  to  Dan 
Waggoner  and  Burke  Burnett,  the  cattle 
kings.  Burnett's  home  is  in  Fort  Worth. 
Waggoner  has  a  fine  stone  mansion  prettily 
located  on  an  elevation  above  the  railroad  at 
Decatur.  The  people  of  Wichita  Falls  and 
Iowa  Park  are  grumbling  mightily.  "  Of 
what  use  is  it,"  they  say,  "  to  ship  four  car 
loads  of  melons  a  day  or  to  grind  nearly 
1,000  barrels  of  flour  every  twenty-four  hours 
if  progress  is  to  be  barred  by  such  a  bar- 
rier?" Beyond  the  pasture  lies  that  part  of 
the  Indian  Territory  known  as  the  Fort  Sill 
country,  the  home  of  the  Comanches.  En- 
vious eyes  are  upon  the  Waggoner  pasture 
and  upon  the  Fort  Sill  country,  "  Take  the 
farmers  out  of  this  region,"  say  the  Iowa 
Park  people,  "  and  property  wouldn't  be 
worth  lOc  on  the  dollar.  Double  the  number 
of  farmers  and  property  will  be  worth  150c 
on  the  dollar  of  the  present  valuation.  The 
way  to  boom  the  town  is  to  say  nothing  about 
it  but  to  settle  the  farms." 

There  is  room  in  the  Waggoner  pasture  for 
500  farmers.  People  would  pay  $10  to  $15  an 
acre  for  the  land  if  they  could  get  it.  Before 
the  country,  in  other  directions  from  Wichita 
Falls,  was  developed,  the  Waggoner  pasture 
wasn't  worth  over  $3  or  $4  an  acre.  The  set- 
tlement of  the  Waggoner  pasture  would 
double  the  population  of  Iowa  Park  in 


-27- 


two  years.  Thus  the  issue  of  anti-pas- 
ture grows  in  the  Panhandle.  The  Waggoner 
pasture  is  mentioned  only  as  an  illustration. 
All  through  the  Panhandle  this  issue  exists. 
It  is  greater  than  any  other  question.  County 
elections  turn  upon  it.  Until  three  years  ago 
the  cowmen  controlled  the  Panhandle  politics. 
They  elected  County  Commissioners  and  dic- 
tated assessment  and  taxation.  They  let  the 
farmers'  improvements  bear  the  burden, 
while  the  big  pastures  which  were  increased 
in  value  by  such  improvements  beside  them 
were  taxed  only  as  wild  land.  The  opening 
of  roads  was  retarded.  The  contest  was  and 
is  a  lively  one.  Self-interest  of  the  cowmen 
is  arrayed  against  self-interest  of  the  farm- 
ers. Neither  is  blame- worthy.  A  few  years 
ago  twenty  men  named  the  officers  and  shaped 
the  policies  of  four  of  these  wheat-growing 
counties.  But  big  pastures  don't  go  with  big 
towns.  And  this  is  the  era  of  farm-making  J 
and  town-building  in  the  Panhandle. 


Who  would  have  dreamed  that  the  cowman 
and  Comanche  would  ever  lie  down  together  ? 
The  cowman  dispossessed  the  Comanche.  He 
drove  him  from  the  Panhandle  into  a  res- 
ervation. And  now  the  Comanche  is  in 
the  pay  of  the  cowman  to  help  stay 
the  progress  of  the  farmer.  The  Fort 
Sill  country  is  so  near  that  the 
Comanches  trot  their  ponies  down  to  Wichita 
Falls  in  a  day.  It  is  the  cream  of  the  Indian 
Territory  in  the  opinion  of  the  Panhandle 
farmer.  But  while  other  reservations  in  the 
Territory  are  being  broken  up  and  thrown 
open  to  white  settlement,  the  Fort  Sill  coun- 
try remains  closed.  The  big  man  among  the 
Comanches  is  Quanah  Porter.  Quanah  has  a 
farm  and  plenty  of  horses.  Ho  has  taken  sides 
with  the  cowman,  his  old  enemy.  When  it  is 
necessary  to  send  a  squad  of  Comanche  chiefs 
to  Washington  to  tell  the  Great  Father  the  Co- 
manches want  to  lease  their  lands  to  Dan  Wag- 
goner and  the  other  cattle  kings  for  6c  a  year 
per  acre,  Quanah  is  the  shrewd  Comanche  who 
rounds  up  the  squad  and  has  charge  of  them. 
Quanah  is  a  politician.  He  is  not  much  of  a 
chief  by  inheritance  or  by  war-path  record. 
But  he  is  a  very  smart  Indian  politician. 
When  Mackenzie  killed  3600  Indian 
ponies  down  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Tule  and  hustled  the  Comanches 
back  on  their  reservation  after  their  last 
breakaway  he  picked  out  Quanah  and  put  him 
at  the  head  of  the  whole  outfit.  By  virtue  of 
this  commission  from  the  great  "  long  gun, ' ' 
and  by  the  exercise  of  a  good  deal  of  practical 
politics,  Quanah  has  remained  boss  of  the 
Comanches  to  this  day.  Something  happened 
not  long  ago  which  nearly  ended  Quanah' s 
usefulness  with  his  people.  The  boss  gath- 


ered together  a  lot  of  big  men  of  the  tribe  and 
took  them  down  to  Fort  Worth  on  a  junket. 
The  cowmen  wanted  a  job  put  through,  it 
matters  little  what.  The  Comanches  were 
corraled  in  the  best  hotel  in  the  fort.  The 
next  morning  one  of  them  was  dead.  He  had 
blown  out  the  gas.  The  chief's  body  was 
taken  back  to  the  Fort  Sill  country. 
There  was  great  lamentation.  Many  ponies 
were  killed  for  use  in  the  happy  hunting 
grounds.  Braves  gashed  their  breasts  and 
squaws  howled.  Suspicion  of  foul  play 
fell  upon  Quanah,  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  grief  there  was  strong  sentiment 
in  favor  of  sending  Quanah  to  join  the  de- 
parted. But  his  white  friends  stood  by  the 
boss.  Time  effaced  the  memory  of  the  afflic- 
tion. To-day  Quanah  is  more  a  boss  than 
ever,  and  he  stands  in  with  the  cowmen  to 
their  great  satisfaction  and  his  own  material 


FORMER     OWNERS    OP      THE    PANHANDLE. 

benefit.  The  Panhandle  farmers  say  there  is 
room  for  50,000  people,  without  crowding,  in 
the  Fort  Sill  country.  They  say  that  if  the 
title  to  Greer  is  vested  in  the  United  States, 
that  new  country  bordering  the  Comanches 
reservation  on  the  west  will  have  100,000 
people  in  ninety  days.  And  they  also  say 
that  the  United  States  land  policy  of  160 
acres,  enough  for  a  homestead,  would  put 
10,000,000  in  Texas  by  the  time  the  popula- 
tion of  the  whole  country  reaches  100,000- 
000.  Perhaps  they  are  right.  Oklahoma  was 
settled  in  a  day.  The  Cheyenne  and  Arapa- 
hoe  lands  were  filed  on  in  another  day.  South 
of  them  lie  the  Fort  Sill  country,  Greer 
County  and  the  Panhandle.  Southwestward 
the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way.  W.  B.  8. 


THROUGH    TEXAS. 


Strange  Sights  and  Stranger  Tales  of 
the  Transpecos  Country. 


A  Monument  Not  Made  -with  Hands— The 
Mystery  of  Diablo  Canyon— Mountain 
Kangaroo  -The  Ancient  Irrigators 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

SIERRA  BLANC  A,  TEX.,  August  13.— After  the 
tireless  American  tourist  has  exhausted  the 
rest  of  the  continent,  he  can  come  to  the 
transpecos  country  and  find  brand  new 
wonders.  Beyond  the  Pecos  River  lies  a  part 
of  Texas  as  large  as  all  New  England,  leaving 
off  Maine.  It  has  more  mountains  than  peo- 
ple, and  it  is  full  of  strange  things.  Five  or 
six  miles  north  of  the  little  station  of  Van 


travel  the  740  miles  from  East  Texas  to  West 
Texas  to  se3  it  and  other  works  of  nature  in 
the  transpecos  country. 

At  a  somewhat  greater  distance  from  the 
railroad  is  the  Diablo  Canyon.  The  Pueblo 
shrugs  his  shoulders  .when  he  talks  of  the 
Diablo  Canyon.  It  is  in  the  wildest  and  rug- 
gedest  parts  of  the  mountains.  More  ante- 
lope can  be  seen  in  the  canyon  than  anywhere 
else  in  the  country.  There  are  literally  thou- 
sands of  them.  This  is  because  all  life 
in  the  Diablo  Canyon  is  sacred  to 
the  Indians,  and  white  men  almost 
never  penetrate  the  mysterious  pre- 
cincts. These  antelope  have  not  been  dis- 
turbed. Anywhere  outside  of  the  canj^on  the 
antelope  is  the  Indian's  meat.  Within  the 
canyon  sanctity  permits  no  kiUing.  As  a  rule 
the  Indians  do  not  visit  the  place.  But  in  the 
tribe  are  several  who  seem  to  have  been  ini- 
tiated into  an  order  or  mystic  body.  These 


THE   CACTUS   GARDEN  AT   SIERRA   BLANCA. 


Horn  is  something  worth  coming  miles  to  see. 
A  ledge  of  blood-red  sandstone  overhangs 
the  ravine.  It  projects  outward  from  50  to 
150  feet  and  is  from  100  to  200  feet  above  the 
bottom.  Under  this  massive  roof  one  can 
walk  for  five  or  six  miles.  An  army  could  be 
sheltered  there.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  al- 
most enclosed  ravine  rises  a  natural  monu- 
ment. It  is  of  rock,  built  up  strata  upon  strata 
to  the  enormous  height  of  300  feet.  That 
is  more  than  half  of  the  height  of  the  Wash- 
ington Monument.  This  strange  freak  looks 
like  an  old  tower.  The  stratification  .gives  it 
all  of  the  appearance  of  rock  laid  course  upon 
course  by  human  hands.  The  base  is  100  feet 
square  and  the  top  tapers  to  about  50  feet. 
Some  day  there  will  be  pictures  of  this  monu- 
ment in  the  guide  books,  and  people  will 


have  the  right  of  entering  the  canyon.  They 
exercise  a  kind  of  guardianship  over  it.  White 
men  do  not  visit  the  Diablo  Canyon  because 
they  can  find  no  water  in  or  near  it.  Yet  there 
is  water.  Springs  abound,  and  the  location 
of  them  is  a  secret  the  Indian  holds.  The  wa- 
ter from  these  springs  runs  a  short  distance 
and  then  sinks  into  the  ground.  That  is  a 
great  trick  with  the  water  courses  throughout 
this  region.  White  men  and  all  but  the  ini- 
tiated, may  pass  within  a  few  feet  of  one  of 
these  springs  and  never  suspect  its  presence. 
The  water  is  covered  entirely  over  from  its 
source  to  its  place  of  disappearance  in  the 
earth  with  dry  hides.  Upon  the  hides  dirt  has 
been  scattered  and  grass  sown.  This  work 
was  done  long  ago  by  the  initiated  to  pre- 
serve the  sacredness  of  the  canyon,  and  it  has 


-29- 


proven  effective.  The  initiated  members  of 
the  tribe  can  go  to  these  springs.  None  oth- 
ers can  find  one  of  them.  The  Diablo  Canyon 


There  are  nuts  and  grains  in  the  transpeoos 
mountains.  White  men  have  never  found 
them.  The  Indians  can  go  to  them  at  any 


IN  THE  GUADALUPE  MOUNTAINS. 


is  seven  or  eight  miles  long,  surrounded  by 
precipices  and  reached  only  by  difficult  trails. 
It  is  thirty  miles  from  the  railroad. 


time  and  can  obtain  subsistence  where  white 
men  would  starve.  Cactus  growth  takes  on 
its  most  fantastic  forms  in  this  region.  There 


-30- 


are  cactus  trees  and  cactus  shrubs  and  cactus 
plants.  At  a  little  distance  some  of  these  col- 
lections look  like  well-kept  gardens.  The 
cactus  seems  to  have  been  set  out  by  human 
design  in  regular  rows  and  squares.  But  a 
nearer  view  shows  that  nature's  orderly  in- 
spiration has  done  it  all.  At  the  station  of 
Sierra  Blanca  specimens  of  the  different  varie- 
ties of  cactus  growth  have  been  brought  from 
the  mountain"  sides  and  grouped.  They  are 
not  only  of  all  forms  and  sizes,  but  of  many 
colors,  and  alike  only  in  the  possession  of  the 
sharp  needles. 


There  is  something  besides  mountain  and 
cactus  in  the  transpecos  country.  Coming 
out  of  the  Davis  mountains  is  Toy  ah  Creek. 
It  is  a  sparkling  mountain  stream,  15  to  20 
feet  in  width  in  places,  making  a  succession 


on  rheumatism  and  gout,  and  have  wrought 
cures.  The  elevation  is  high.  The  climate  is 
dry.  It  tones  up  weak  lungs  and  enables  the 
asthmatic  to  whoop  and  enjoy  life.  Here  are 
salt-water  bathing  and  mountain  air  com- 
bined. Yet  the  man  who  wishes  to  enjoy  the 
combination  must  sleep  out  of  doors  or  take 
a  tent  along.  There  are  no  accommodations. 
Nature  has  created  an  extraordinary  variety 
of  conditions  for  a  great  sanitarium  and  pleas- 
ure resort,  but  no  one  has  had  the  enterprise 
to  build  a  hotel.  This  Toyah  Creek  and  the 
lake  are  only  a  dozen  miles  south  of  Pecos 
City.  They  are  to-day  just  as  nature  made 
them,  save  for  the  partial  use  of  the  creek 
water  for  irrigating. 


The  transpecos   country   has   its  living  as 
well  as  its  inanimate  freaks.    Upon  the  large 


THE  CABBIZO  MOUNTAINS,  NOBTH  OF  VAN  HOBN. 


of  deep  pools  and  dashing  over  falls  until  it 
reaches  the  more  level  country.  There  it 
forms  a  beautiful  lake  two  miles  wide  and 
four  miles  in  length.  On  the  creek  are  half  a 
dozen  irrigating  canals  taking  out  water  to 
irrigate  from  5,000  to  10,000  acres  of  land. 
This  creek  is  full  of  fish,  including  what  is 
called  trout  in  this  country,  but  what  is  not 
like  any  trout  in  Northern  mountain  streams. 
In  season  the  creek  and  lake  are  covered  with 
game  ducks  and  other  water  fowl  of  every 
description.  The  lake  is  salt,  in  spite  of  the 
mountain  feeder.  It  has  a  smooth  beach  and 
a  hard  ,  bottom.  It  is  free  from  holes 
and  is  a  most  perfect  bathing  place. 
There  are  springs  all  about  which  possess 
a  whole  apothecary  shop  of  medical  quali- 
ties. Some  of  these  springs  have  been  tested 


table  in  the  room,  at  Dallas,  where  the  Texas 
and  Pacific  World's  Fair  exhibit  is  being  pre- 
pared, two  curious  animals  have  their  tem- 
porary home.  They  are  "  most  amoosin  lit- 
tle cusses."  In  the  transpecos  country, 
from  which  these  animals  were  sent  a  few 
days  ago  to  Mr.  Roessler,  they  are  known  as 
mountain  kangaroos.  There  are  others  where 
these  came  from,  but  the  man  who  catches 
them  will  have  to  be  quicker  than  the  Irish- 
man was  with  the  flea.  The  name  is  well 
bestowed.  They  are  kangaroos,  but  of  lilipu- 
tian  mold.  Their  bodies  are  about  4  inches 
long,  with  reddish  brown  fur  on  the  back  and 
the  most  delicate  white  fur  on  the  belly. 
They  have  hind  legs  7  inches  long,  nearly 
twice  the  length  of  the  body.  The  front  legs 
are  about  one  inch  long.  The  tail  is  7  inches 


-31  - 


long,  and  has  quite  a  bushy  covering  at  the 
end.  On  the  tail  and  the  hind  legs  these 
little  kangaroos  sit,  and  use  the 
fore  legs  for  hands.  Their  movement 
is  by  jumps,  and  they  go  like  lightning.  All 
that  one  sees  is  a  red  streak.  Strange  to  tell, 
the  little  fellows  take  to  tameness  and  civili- 
zation very  kindly.  They  are  rarely  caught, 
owing  to  their  ability  to  get  away.  But  once 
caged  they  become  domesticated  in  a  few 
hours.  All  that  they  want  to  make  them  per- 
fectly happy  is  something  to  do.  And  therein 
they  set  a  fine  example  for  Texas  politicians. 
Mr.  Roessler  puts  a  pint  of  grain  at  one  end  of 
the  large  table  and  a  large  paper  funnel  at  the 
other.  In  half  an  hour  the  two  kangaroos  will 
move  the  heap  of  seed  across  the  table  and 
store  it  in  the  paper  funnel.  As  they  squat 
beside  the  grain  they  seem  to  be  eating  it,  but 
instead  of  pouring  it  into  their  mouths  with 
their  paws  they  tuck  it  away  in  two  pouches, 
one  on  either  side  of  the  head,  and  when 
loaded  they  jump  across  the  table  at  a  pace 
which  would  have  turned  Mark  Twain's  frog 
green  with  envy,  and  unload  it  in  the  hiding 
place.  As  often  as  the  grain  heap  is  replen- 
ished these  indefatigable  workers  will  remove 
it  to  the  improvised  store  house. 

These  mountain  kangaroos  of  West  Texas 
live  in  the  dryest  places  and  altitudes  of  from 
3000  to  5000  feet.  They  make  their  nests  or 
homes  on  the  ground,  usually  about  the  roots 
of  a  tree.  They  use  sticks  and  put  them  to- 
gether so  nicely  as  to  make  a  solid  little 
structure.  Mr.  Roessler  has  searched  the 
books  and  found  no  description  of  his  new 
pets.  That  in  natural  history  which  most  re- 
sembles the  little  kangaroo  of  the  transpecos 
is  the  jerboa  of  Africa. 


The  Pecos  valley  is  being  bored  full  of  arte- 
sian wells  and  gridironed  with  irrigation  sys- 
tems. Half  a  dozen  years  ago  this  was  the 
Death's  Valley  of  the  cattle  drive.  The  cow- 
boys knew  it  to  their  sorrow.  Coming  up  from 
South  Texas  with  their  yearlings  and  2-year- 
olds  bound  for  the  ranges  of  Colorado,  Wy- 
oming and  Montana,  the  cattlemen  were 
forced  to  follow  the  Pecos  River.  There  was 
no  other  route.  The  only  water  was  in  the 
river  and  the  grass  for  a  long  way  on  either 
side  was  trampled  out  or  gnawed  to  the  roots. 
So  the  herds  zigzagged  up  the  valley,  drifting 
off  as  far  as  they  dared  to  go  without  water 
for  feed,  and  then  angling  back  to  the  river, 
in  an  almost  parched  condition. 

"I  remember  it  well,"  said  one  of  these 
same  cattlemen,  who  is  now  selling  town  lots 
and  improved  farms  at  Eddy.  "In  1886  our 
outfit  tried  to  drive  out  of  Texas  by  this 
route  to  Montana.  We  never  had  such  a  time 
in  our  lives.  We  lost  between  500  and  600 
head.  It  was  leave  the  river  and  drive  to  the 
hills  for  feed  ;  then  leave  the  hills  and  drive  to 
the  river  for  water.  Other  outfits  fared  worse 


than  we  did,  getting  through  with  losses  of  5000 
and  6000.  The  valley  was  strewn  with  dead 
el  3k." 

Lehold  the  transformation.  All  of  the  way 
up  the  valley  from  Pecos  City  in  Texas  to  Ros- 
well  in  New  Mexico  not  100  people  were  liv- 
ing. And  now  the  Pecos  Valley  is  well  on  the 
way  to  achieve  a  population  of  200,000  or 
300,000  inhabitants.  Irrigation  is  doing  it. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  this  isn't  so  wonderful. 
When  the  pioneer  surveying  party  went  over 
that  part  of  the  valley  near  Delaware  Creek, 
running  the  lines  for  a  big  canal,  they  found 
the  ground  plan  of  an  ancient  city.  The 
streets  were  laid  with  cobble  stones,  and  are 
there  to-day.  They  are  extensive  enough  to 
show  that  a  large  community  must  have  been 
served  by  them.  The  adobe  houses  which 


EXTINCT  GEYSER  IN  PECOS  VALLEY. 

lined  these  streets  have  melted  away  under 
the  storms  of  perhaps  half  a  dozen  centuries, 
but  no  one  who  walks  the  streets  can  doubt 
that  the  populous  city  once  existed.  This  an- 
cient site  is  some  miles  north  of  Pecos  City. 
Forty  miles  south  of  Pecos  City  another  party 
of  surveyors  came  upon  an  ancient  canal. 
That  canal  is  now  in  use  as  part  of  a  system. 
Mr.  O.  W.  Williams  says  the  lines  of  the  an- 
cient canal  are  as  accurate  as  any  engineer 
could  make  them  to-day.  The  ancient  city 
and  the  ancient  canal  tell  the  story.  Hun- 
dreds of  years  ago,  before  Columbus  came, 
this  Pecos  Valley  was  settled  and  irrigated  by 
people  who  lived  in  cities  and  knew  how  to 
run  levels.  History  is  only  repeating  itself 
on  a  grander  and  a  modern  scale  along  the 
Pecos. 


Up  and  down  the  Pecos  Valley  are  mounds. 
If  the  few  inches  of  soil  is  scraped  off  there  is 
uncovered  a  mass  of  broken  rock  and  black 
ashes.  The  rock  is  reduced  to  about  the  size 
of  macadam.  It  looks  as  if  it  had  gone  through 
a  mighty  crusher.  Some  of  this  broken  rock 
is  granite.  There  is  no  other  granite  found  on 
the  surface  for  hundreds  of  miles  around. 
Some  of  the  fragments  are  lava.  The  ashes 
are  like  the  scoriae  of  volcanic  action.  The 
centers  of  the  mounds  are  hollow.  At  the  ris- 
ing town  of  Eddy  the  enterprising  people 
have  made  streets  of  the  contents  of  these 


-32- 


mounds,  and  though  they  have  dug  down 
considerable  distances  they  have  found  the 
same  curious  mixture  of  broken  rock  and 
ashes  as  far  as  they  have  gone.  The  local 
theory  is  that  each  of  these  mounds  is  an  ex- 
tinct geyser.  Mr.  G.  O.^Shields,  of  Eddy,  has 
made  something  of  a  study  of  the  mounds. 
He  says  "  the  country  is  full  of  them."  They 
are  found  along  the  Pecos  and  up  its  tributa- 
ries. Mr.  Shields  says  that  they  bear  every 
appearance  of  having  been  active  within  a 
comparatively  recent  period,  perhaps  not 
longer  than  a  century.  It  may  be  there  are 
geysers  still  spouting  in  the  mountains  and 
that  may  explain  the  mystery  of  the  Diablo 
Canyon,  which  all  Indians  venerate  as  the 
abode  of  spirits.  W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


An   Ancient   People   Whose  City  Was 
Bnilt  When  Columbus  Came* 


The  Story  of  the  Tihuas— Their  Glorious 
Deeds  in  War— A  Sacred  Tradition 
Which    Was    Not  A  Secret- 
Mining  in  West  Texas. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

YSLETA,  TEX.,  August  14. — This  nation  is 
about  to  celebrate  "The  Discovery  of 
America."  Yet  it  has  voters  to  whom  the 


men  and  their  generals.  It  is  much  more 
than  400  years  next  October  since  they 
took  up  their  residence  on  the  border 
of  the  Rio  Grande  in  Texas.  The  com- 
munity  has  its  leading  citizens  and  they 
talk  freely  and  interestingly.  They  say 
that  originally  they  came  from  the  Colorado 
River  of  the  West.  Two  branches  of  quite 
a  nation  moved  eastward  at  the  same  time 
to  find  new  homes.  One  settled  at  Ysleta,  in 
what  is  now  Texas;  the  other  at  Ysleta,  in  the 
present  New  Mexico.  They  had  government 
and  they  built  cities.  The  Texas  Ysleta 
prospered  best.  Apaches  and  Comanches 
viewed  the  new-comers  as  intruders  and 
tried  to  drive  them  back.  They  besieged  the 
upper  colony,  and  Ysleta  in  Texas  was 
obliged  to  send  a  military  force  to  help  out 
the  brethren.  That  force  remained,  and  the 
descendants  are  still  living  in  the  Ysleta  of 
New  Mexico.  These  people  are  now  called 
Pueblos.  Their  distinctive  name  as  a  tribe  or 
nation  was  Tihua.  Ysleta  was  originally  Chi- 
hua.  For  100  years  war  was  waged  against 
the  Indians  who  sought  to  drive  back  the 
Tihuas.  Then  the  Spaniards  came  in  and 
overran  the  country.  The  Tihuas  accepted 
the  conquest.  But  submission  was  not  be- 
cause of  superior  military  prowess.  It 
was  for  a  religious  reason.  For  a  time  the 
relations  ran  smoothly.  The  Spaniards  mis- 
took the  nature  of  this  people.  They  thought 
they  were  too  tame  to  fight,  and  they  became 
oppressive.  The  Tihuas  arose  in  revolution 
and  drove  the  Spaniards  out  of  New  Mexico 


THE  CHISAS  MOUNTAINS,  TEXAS. 


coming  of  Columbus  was  only  an  incident. 
Before  the  Spanish  conquest  Ysleta  was  a 
city.  The  Ysleta  people  had  their  politics, 
tfheir  history,  their  government, their  states- 


and  Texas.  After  that  for  a  hundred  years  there 
was  war  between  the  Tihuas  and  the  Span- 
iards. The  latter,  with  better  armament  and 
with  increased  forces,  gradually  worsted  the 


-33- 


former.  But  this  time  there  was  no  submis- 
sion. The  Tihuas  fighti  ig  stubbornly  with- 
drew from  their  ancient  city  of  Chihua,  gave 
up  their  fields  and  vineyards  and  their  elabo- 
rate irrigation  system  and  moved  eastward, 


A  HOME   OP  THE  TIHUAS. 


even  across  the  Pecos  River.  They  built  new 
towns,  and  made  a  stronghold  in  the  Hueco 
mountains.  Hueco  has  been  Americanized 
into  Waco.  In  Hueco  Mountains  the  last  battle 
with  the  Spaniards  was  fought.  And  when 
the  so-called  "conquerors' '  tired  of  trying  to 
subdue  the  Tihuas  the  latter,  many  of  them, 


have  given  the  United  States  soldiers  by  their 
wily  ways  and  desperate  tactics  this  victory  of 
the  Tihuas  appears  the  more  remarkable. 
According  to  the  story  told  at  Ysleta  by  the 
local  chroniclers  of  the  Tihuas,  the  Apaches 
surprised  and  murdered  two  of  the  Pueblos  at 
what  is  now  Carrizo  Station,  on  the  Texas  and 
Pacific  Railroad.  The  Tihuas  mustered  their 
fighting  strength  and  their  best  officers  took 
the  field.  By  a  series  of  forced  marches  and 
by  brilliant  maneuvers  they  drove  the 
Apaches,  between  300  and  400  strong,  into 
the  Hueco  Mountains,  and  finally  into  a  great 
cavern.  There  they  penned  them  in.  Sixty 
of  the  Apaches  died  of  starvation.  In  a  series 
of  desperate  sorties  75  per  cent  were  killed. 
Enough  got  away  to  carry  the  news  to  the 
tribe.  In  the  language  again  of  the  interpreter* 
"The  Apaches  never  monkeyed  with  the 
Tihuas  after  that." 

These  Pueblos  have  been  given  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  patient  and  peace-loving  by  the 
historians  and  ethnologists.  They  have  been 
credited  with  being  submissive  almost  to  the 
degree  of  accepting  tyranny  in  preference  to 
strife.  It  would  appear  that  this  trait  has 


A     VEHICLE    AND    GRANARY   IN   ANCIENT    YSLETA. 


moved  back  to  their  beloved  Ysleta,  repaired 
the  ditches  and  remade  the  city.  This  is 
history,  not  as  will  be  found  in  the  books, 
but  as  it  is  told  to-day  by  the  best  men  of 
Ysleta,  than  whom  the  United  States  has  no 
better  assimilated  citizens.  Until  twenty 
years  ago  the  Tihuas  fought  the  Apaches, 
their  hereditary  enemies.  Peace  was  estab- 
lished as  the  result  of  a  brilliant  campaign. 
In  the  language  of  the  interpreter,  the  Tihuas 
"did  them  up  in  great  shape."  When  it  is  re- 
membered how  much  trouble  the  Apaches 


been  overdrawn.  Army  officers  say  that  the 
Tihuas  will  fight.  They  have  tried  them  as 
trailers  and  scouts  in  the  Indian  campaigns 
and  have  found  them  full  of  strategy  and  grit. 
Next  to  the  Apaches  the  Comanches  ranked  in 
savage  valor.  Yet  the  Tihuas  forced  an  un- 
derstanding with  the  Comanches  and  estab- 
lished a  boundary  which  neither  crossed. 
After  the  Hueco  tragedy  the  same  kind  of  a 
treaty  was  made  with  the  Apaches. 

The  cave  in  which   the   Apaches  perished 
is    treated    to    this    day    as   a  place  to  be 


-34 


avoided.  No  Indian  will  enter  it.  They  say 
the  spirits  of  the  starved  and  slaughtered 
Apaches  still  linger  there.  The  visitor  can 
hear  in  one  corner  three  distinct  raps.  They 
seem  to  come  from  another  part  of  the  cave. 
When  the  sound  is  followed  to  what  seems  to 
be  the  source  it  is  heard  again,  but  coming 
fro  n  somewhere  else.  These  three  raps  can 
be  heard  at  intervals.  Sometimes  they  seem 
to  come  from  above  and  sometimes  from  be- 
low. They  are  such  raps  as  might  be  made  by 
striking  the  rock  sharply  with  a  hammer. 
After  the  raps  comes  a  whistling  or  hissing 
sound.  Nobody  has  ever  been  able  to  account 
for  the  rappings.  All  Indians  of  whatever 
tribe  give  the  cave  a  wide  berth.  The  location 
of  this  mystery  is  northeast  of  El  Paso  about 
twenty-five  miles. 


closely  resemble  the  doctrines  of  the  Christian 
religion.  Cuetzalcoatl  taught  the  art  of  work- 
ing silver.  He  educated  the  Aztecs  in  agri- 
culture, trained  them  in  the  weaving  of 
cloth,  gave  them  forms  of  worship,  and  incul- 
cated the  idea  of  making  sacrifices  only  of 
flowers.  And  when  the  god  had  thus  finished 
his  work  he  sailed  eastward  on  a  raft  of 
snakes,  promising  to  return  some  time. 
When  the  Spaniards  landed,  their  cross-em- 
blazoned banners,  tlieir  religious  customs  and 
their  manners  brought  back  the  memory  of 
the  god  of  air.  The  natives  were  sure  that 
Cuetzalcoatl  had  come  again.  They  made 
haste  to  welcome.  They  submitted  to  Span- 
ish domination  until  it  grew  tyrannical.  Cor- 
tez  got  in  his  cruel  work  before  the  mistake 
was  discovered. 


AX   ANCIENT  PEAR  TREE   AT  YSLETA. 


And  now  for  the  explanation  of  the  submis- 
sion of  these  people  to  the  Spaniards,  an  act 
on  which  is  based  misapprehension  of  their 
character.  Not  long  ago  a  gentleman  familiar 
with  Aztec  lore  visited  Ysleta  in  Texas.  He 
brought  together  the  chief  men  of  the  Tihuas 
and  made  them  a  speech.  In  the  course  of 
the  remarks,  which  were  interpreted  sentence 
by  sentence,  the  visitor  told  the  legend  of 
Cuetzalcoatl.  The  purpose  was  to  judge  of 
the  effect  of  the  narrative  upon  the  Tihuas  and 
to  determine  their  possible  relationship  to  the 
Aztecs.  Cuetzalcoatl  was  the  Aztec  god  of  air. 
His  functions  were  those  of  a  priest.  Many  of 
his  teachings,  as  described  by  the  Aztecs, 


Thus  the  story  of  Cuetzalcoatl  v,-as  narrated 
to  the  Tihuas  of  Western  Texas  for  the  first 
tim3  by  a  white  man.  In  the  audience  were 
men  of  great  ago.  Their  excitement  increased 
as  the  narrative  progressed.  As  soon  as  the 
end  was  reached  there  was  a  commotion. 
The  listeners  looked  at  each  other  and  then 
at  the  speaker.  They  conversed  together  in 
an  excited  manner.  They  turned  to  the  inter- 
preter and  wanted  to  know  where  the  white 
man  had  learned  what  he  had  told.  Then  they 
said  that  the  .story  of  Cuetzalcoatl  \YIIS  one  of 
their  most  sacred  memories,  and  they  did  not 
dream  it  was  known  to  any  but  themselves. 
Finding  that  he  knew  so  much,  the  Tihuas 


-35- 


told  many  things  going  to  show  their  common 
origin  with  the  Aztecs  of  Mexico  and  Yucatan. 
They  told  of  the  sacred  fires  which  had  been 
burning  centuries  for  the  return  of  the  god. 
They  confirmed  the  theory  that  it  was  the  be- 
lief in  the  return  of  Cuetzalcoatl  which  had 
prompted  their  submission  to  the  Spanish 
yoke. 

These  Tihuas  pay  taxes  and  vote;  they  fulfil 
all  of  the  duties  and  exercise  all  of  the  privi- 
leges of  American  citizens.  At  the  same  time 
they  preserve  the  old  forms  and  offices  of 
Aztec  self-government.  But  the  latter  is  now 
social  rather  than  political.  The  Aztec  gov- 
ernment is  a  reminiscence.  The  real  govern- 
ment is  American. 

Perhaps  the  Tihuas  are  the  original  long- 
horns.  "X"  is  interchangeable  with  "  hu  " 
in  the  ancient  spelling  and  pronunciation. 

With  this  borne  in  mind  it  is  not  difficult  to 
see  a  close  relationship  between  Tihuas,  pro- 
nounced Te-waus,  and  Texas.  The  deriva- 
tion of  Texas  has  given  the  scholars  of  the 
Southwest  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  The  his- 
tory of  the  Tihuas  may  have  a  bearing  on  the 
controversy. 


These  mountains  of  Texas  look  as  if  they 
ought  to  contain  rich  ores.  In  their  continu- 
ation to  the  northward  are  prosperous  min- 


trict.  The  Carrizo  mines  are  six  miles  from 
Allaraore  Station.  There  is  a  district  called 
the  Diabolo  north  of  Van  Horn.  Precious  min- 
erals are  also  found  in  the  mountains  150 
to  200  miles  south  of  Pecos  City.  The  Frank- 


OX  THE   PLATFORM   AT  WILD   HORSE,   TEX. 


lin  district  has  been  protpected  in  a  small 
way.  Very  little  has  been  done  in  develop- 
ment. In  the  Carrizo  district  the  ores  which 
have  been  found  are  usually  green  copper, 
with  silver  varying  from  $30  to  $150  a  ton. 


THE  CHURCH  AT  YSLETA,  THREE  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 


ing  camps.  To  the  south  are  located  some  of 
the  famous  mines  of  Mexico.  Yet  up  to  date, 
Texas  as  a  mining  country  for  the  precious 
metals,  is  almost  a  terra  incognita.  There 
has  been  some  prospecting,  and  there  is  some 
mining  going  on  in  Western  Texas.  There 
may  be  a  great  deal  more.  North  of  El  Paso 
is  the  Franklin  district.  Fifteen  miles  south- 
west of  Sierra  Blanca,  where  the  cactus  gar- 
dens cover  the  mountain  side,  is  a  second  dis- 


In  this  district  there  are  numerous  prospect 
holes,  but  no  mines  in  operation.  The  Dia- 
bolo Mountains  are  the  palisades  of  Texas. 
Seen  from  the  car  window  the  palisades  ap- 
pear to  be  about  150  feet  high.  But  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  railroad  these  palisades  tower 
magnificently  to  the  height  of-  1,000  and 
1,500  feet  above  the  surrounding  country. 
In  the  Diabolo  Mountains  the  Hazel  mines  are 
situated.  They  are  worked  by  200  men,  and 


quite  a  little  town  has  come  into  existence 
eight  miles  from  Allamore  Station.  The  ore 
is  what  is  known  as  tetrahedrite,  or  gray  cop- 
per. It  carries  from  100  to  1,600  ounces  of  sil- 
ver to  the  ton.  Much  of  the  silver  found  is 
wire.  The  percentage  of  copper  is  about  20. 
There  are  any  number  of.  prospect  holes  in  the 
district  around  the  Hazel  mines.  Southwest 
of  Sierra  Blanca  the  trail  winds  its  way 
through  the  natural  cactus  gardens  to  the 
Bonanza  mines.  The  product  is  a  combination 
of  silver  and  lead.  It  is  35  to  40  per  cent  lead, 
and  furnishes  from  40  to  150  ounces  of  silver 
to  the  ton.  This  district  is  within  six  miles  of 
Etholen  Station.  It  is  worked  only  in  a  small 
way. 

In  Presidio  County,  a  long  distance  south  of 
the  districts  just  mentioned,  are  located  the 
Presidio  and  Cibolo  mines  at  Shafter.  They 
have  been  worked  for  several  years.  The  ores 
are  galena,  sulphurets  and  chlorides  of  silver 
mixed  more  or  less  with  iron.  They  give  200 
to  500  ounces  of  silver  to  the  ton  and  are 
accounted  very  valuable  mines. 

Ores  have  been  found  in  many  places  in  the 
mountains  of  Western  Texas,  but  the  mining 
industry  is  in  its  infancy.  .W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


The  Story  of  Three  Men  and  Their  Three 
Millions  Investment. 


Where  Jay  Gould  Found  Health  and  a 

Railroad  — Holy     River  — Irrigation 

Made     Easy    for    Beginners— A 

Woman's   Expensive   Desert 

Land  Entry. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe  Democrat. 

IN-  THE  PECOS  VALLEY,  August  15.— Two 
years  ago  there  was  a  piece  of  land  400  miles 
square  without  a  rod  of  railroad.  From  the 
center  it  was  possible  to  journey  200  miles  in 
any  direction  and  not  read  "  Look  out  for  the 
locomotive."  Nowhere  else  in  the  United 
States  was  this  true.  One  man  had  a  ranch 
house  here.  His  cattle  roamed  over  several 
thousand  hills  and  yielded  little  profit.  An- 
other man  came.  He  had  made  a  snug  for- 
tune as  superintendent  of  iron  works  at  Mil- 
waukee, had  swelled  it  by  fortunate  invest- 
ment in  iron  lands  in  the  Lake  Superior  re- 
gion ;  still  further  increased  it  by  the  building 
ef  a  Colorado  railroad,  and  was  receiving 
$1000  a  month  from  his  interest  in  a  single 
Colorado  mine.  The  third  man  was  a  news- 
paper editor  and  publisher.  He  had  lived  fif- 
teen years  on  hope  in  this  region.  His  sole 
capital  was  experience.  These  three  men 


pooled  their  brains,  their  capital  and  their 
experience.  They  acquired  the  land.  They 
made  a  whole  river  their  servant,  taking 
every  drop  of  water  out  of  the  channel.  They 
built  a  railroad  a  hundred  miles  long. 
Around  a  850,000  hotel  and  a  $30,000  court 
house  they  laid  out  a  city.  "  The  timidity  of 
capital"  is  talked  about.  The  proposition 
which  these  three  men  laid  before  the  world 
has  absorbed  $3,000,000.  And  the  ditching 
and  planting  and  building  go  on  with  su- 
preme faith  in  the  ultimate  result. 

This  Pecos  Valley  enterprise  is  a  part  of 
"Through  Texas,"  although  the  lands  and 
the  headquarters  of  the  grand  scheme  lie  in 
the  southeastern  corner  of  New  Mexico.  Far  up 
in  the  mountains  of  New  Mexico  the  Rio  Pecos 
has  its  rise.  It  crosses  the  line  into  Texas 
near  the  corner  of  the  Territory  and  con- 
tinues on  its  course  through  Western  Texas  to 
its  junction  with  the  Rio  Grande.  At  the 
crossing  of  the  Texas  and  Pacific  Rail- 
road and  the  Rio  Pecos,  the  new  railroad  of 
the  Pecos  Valley  has  its  connection  with  the 
world.  It  comes  down  the  Pecos  Valley  from 
Eddy,  in  New  Mexico,  a  distance  of  ninety 
miles. 

The  soil  of  the  Pecos  Valley  is  dark,  with 
some  gravel  here,  some  gypsum  there  and 
occasional  alkali  beds.  It  is  the  same  soil 
which  in  the  Rio  Grande  and  other  arid  valleys 
looks  hopeless  until  water  is  turned  upon  it, 
and  then,  behold !  It  becomes  Paradise. 
When  the  three  men  began  the  grand  work 
<>f  Ira.nsformatlon  in  the  Pecos  Valley  this 
land  was  rated  by  the  Government  at  $1.25 
:iu  acre,  and  there  were  no  takers.  A  dam 
was  built  over  the  river  from  side  lo  side,  to 
catch  the  entire  flow.  It  is  50  feet  high  and 
1150  feet  long.  Just  above  the  shrewdly 
chosen  location  the  river  comes  down  and 
strikes  with  its  full  force  a  high  limestone 
bluff.  It  turns  sharply  and  meets  the  dam 
with  the  current  almost  destroyed  by 
the  bluff.  Around  the  end  of 
the  dam,  hewn  out  of  this  solid 
limestone  bluff,  30  feet  wide  ani  25  feet  deep, 
is  the  channel  through  which  th3  water  is  led 
off  into  the  great  irrigating  canal.  Heavy 
gates  set  into  the  rock  bottom  and  sides  con- 
trol the  water  as  perfectly  as  if  this  was  the 
lock  of  a  canal.  The  lake  made  by  the  dam  is 
seven  miles  long  and  two  miles  wide,  holding 
in  reserve  1,000,000,000  gallons  of  water. 
There  is  the  inspiration  of  the  100  miles  of 
railroad,  the  large  hotel,  the  town,  the  land 
which  nobody  would  take  at  81  25  now  worth 
all  of  the  way  from  $5  to  $50  an  acre— in  short 
of  the  whole  $3,000,000  investment. 

But  the  $3,000,000  doesn't  represent  the 
end.  The  plans  of  the  founders  of  this  ambi- 
tious city  and  irrigation  scheme  contemplate 
the  expenditure  of  $2,000,000  before  they  are 
anywhere  near  complete.  After  that  it  is  ex- 
pected the  enterprise  will  carry  itself. 


-37- 


The  water  in  the  canal  flows  gently  with  a 
fall  of  18  inches  to  the  mile.  In  the  river 
channel  the  fall  is  18  to  20  feet  to  the  mile. 
It  doesn't  take  very  far  to  carry  the  water 
back  from  the  river  so  that  the  whole  valley's 
width,  a  dozen  miles  or  more,  is  under  the 
water  level.  The  water  coming  down  the 
headway  hewn  in  the  solid  rock  rushes 
through  a  dozen  narrow  gates  into  the  canal. 
The  engineers  say  that  in  each  gate  can  be 
placed  a  turbine  wheel  which  will  develop 
1000  horse-power.  The  power  can  be  carried 
by  wire  down  the  valley  and  will  supply  a 
city  of  50,000  people  with  all  they  need  for 
light  manufacturing.  In  this  water  to 
be  supplied  for  irrigation  is  car- 
ried a  red  rich  silt  which  will  fertilize 
wherever  the  water  moistens.  This  silt  is 
equal  to  the  best  manure,  and  in  twenty-five 
or  thirty  years  will  give  the  whole  valley  an- 
other top  soil.  Another  dam  twenty  miles 
further  up  the  river  is  included  in  the  plan  of 
further  improvement.  This  will  give  a  reser- 


have  a  total  length  of  over  100  miles,  and  the 
branches  have  as  much  more.  The  digging 
still  goes  on. 

Mr.  Gould  came  up  the  Pecos  Yalley  awhile 
ago.  He  saw  the  dam,  the  town,  the  canals 
and  the  brand  new  farms.  As  he  went  about 
he  asked  so  many  questions  that  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  company  was  almost  floored. 
Before  he  left  the  valley  Mr.  Gould  made  Mr. 
Hagerman,  one  of  "  the  big  three  ' '  an  offer 
for  the  railroad.  Mr.  Hagerman  replied,  "  It 
is  not  for  sale  at  any  price ,  Mr.  Gould . ' '  Be- 
fore he  moved  on  his  special  car  in  search  of 
health  and  more  railroads  the  magnate  put 
on  a  piece  of  paper  his  opinion  to  this  effect : 

"I  am  impressed  with  the  wonderful  rich- 
ness of  the  soil,  with  its  peculiar  adaptation 
to  irrigation.  With  an  ample  supply  of  water 
it  will  not  be  long  before  it  becomes  one  of 
the  richest  valleys  in  the  United  States. 
What  I  was  particularly  interested  in  is  the 
effect  of  the  pure,  dry  air  on  bronchial 
troubles.  Speaking  from  personal  experience, 


THE  BIG    FLUME    ACROSS    THE   PECOS. 


voir  eight  times  as  large  as  the  present  one. 
The  Pecos  is  a  queer  river.  Every  drop  in  the 
channel  is  cut  off  by  the  dam.  Yet  half  a  mile 
below  there  is  a  running  stream,  and  six 
miles  below  the  dam  the  river  is  booming 
along  merrily.  It  is  replenished  by  enor- 
mous springs  which  boil  up  from  the  bed  and 
sides.  One  of  these  streams  pours  out  a  vol- 
ume of  water  greater  than  the  City  of  Denver 
uses  in  twenty-four  hours. 

The  canal  is  45  feet  wide  at  the  bottom,  and 
carries  7  feet  of  water.  It  is  as  large  as  the 
canals  used  for  transportation  purposes  in  the 
eastern  part  of  the  United  States.  Four  miles 
below  the  dam  the  canal  divides,  the  larger 
branch  crosses  the  river  it  has  just  robbed  on 
a  monster  flume  40  feet  above  the  river  bed, 
and  continues  down  the  valley  sixty  miles  or 
more.  The  larger  canals  in  the  system  now 


there  is  no  better  region  than  this  for  persons 
thus  suffering.  The  effect  is  immediate  and 
improvement  rapid.' ' 

The  streets  of  Eddy  are  full  of  people  who 
have  come  to  the  Pecos  to  prolong  life.  This 
is  a  climate  so  dry  that  to  die  means  to  dry 
up,  not  to  decay.  Delicate  lunged  men 
whose  days  were  numbered  in  the  North  are 
down  here  selling  goods,  practicing  the  pro- 
fessions and  making  farms.  With  one  lung, 
with  even  a  piece  of  a  lung,  if  it  is  not  too 
small,  one  may  enjoy  life,  liberty  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness  in  the  Pecos  Valley.  It 
is  a  novel  community.  Some  men  have  come 
to  save  themselves.  Other  men  have  come  to 
save  their  wives.  Parents  whose  little  flocks 
have  begun  to  dwindle  in  the  ruthless  North 
have  brought  what  they  have  left  in  the  hope 
that  the  dreaded  disease  may  not  claim  all. 


-38- 


In  and  about  Eddy  are  a  former  railroad 
builder  from  Chicago,  a  retired  army  officer, 
two  doctors  from  Fort  Wayne,  Ind.,  a  retired 
merchant  from  La  Crosse,  Wis.,  another  doc- 
tor from  Van  Wert,  O.,  an  Oakland  (111.)  mer- 
chant, a  nephew  of  the  late  William  H.  Sew- 
ard,  Lincoln's  Secretary  of  State,  an  English- 
man and  a  Scotchman  of  means,  a  New 
Yorker,  a  civil  engineer  from  St.  Louis  and  a 
real  estate  man  from  the  same  place.  ^ 

As  evidence  of  the  remarkable  dryness  of 
the  climate,  it  is  told  a  quarter  of  beef  may  be 
hung  up  out  of  doors.  The  surface  will  crust 
and  the  meat  will  be  fresh  until  eaten. 

But  it  isn't  true  that  everybody  in  the  Pecos 
Valley  has  come  for  health.  Occasionally 
there  is  a  man  who  has  found  this  a  place  to 


of  new  land  last  February  and  March  are 
alive  and  doing  well.  Three  car  loads  of  these 
rooted  cuttings  Mr.  Greene  bought  at  $18  a 
thousand  and  set  out.  To  be  exact,  the  total 
number  of  settings  was  212,500.  Too  much 
water  is  the  danger  in  irrigation.  The  great 
vineyard  has  been  irrigated  only  twice  this 
season,  but  the  stirring  cultivators  are  going 
continuously.  Many  of  these  little  vines, 
scarcely  more  than  a  finger's  length  when  set 
out  in  March,  have  bunches  of  grapes  this 
year. 

Mr.  Greene  is  one  of  the  big  three  founders 
of  the  Eddy  enterprise.  He  was  a  newspaper 
man  at  El  Paso  when  he  became  interested 
here.  His  little  paper  was  struggling.  The 
editor  was  making  a  study  of  irrigation.  The 


PROPAGATING  HOUSES  AT  THE  GREEXE  PARK. 


make  money.  One  such  drew  $25,000  in  a  lot- 
tery. He  invested  in  a  stock  of  lumber.  Last 
year  he  cleared  up  $25,000,  and  this  year  he 
says  he  will  make  $50,000. 

Irrigation  is  an  art.  It  is  something  more 
than  turning  water  upon  land.  The  Pecos 
Valley  presents  at  least  one  striking  proof  of 
this.  A  year  ago  a  colony  of  Swiss  was 
brought  over  and  settled  some  miles  south  of 
Eddy.  They  had  means.  Some  of  them  were 
sons  of  well-to-do  families  ;  they  were  given 
this  start  in  life  in  a  new  country  in  the  hope 
that  they  would  do  better  than  they  had  done 
in  the  old.  When  they  came  these  Swiss  were 
very  fresh.  They  unbuckled  every  strap  from 
bit  to  crupper  when  they  unharnessed  their 
horses.  They  managed  to  stir  the  soil,  sowed 
their  grain,  let  the  water  loose,  and  then  sat 
down  on  the  shady  side  of  the  houses  to  drink 
bottled  beer  and  wait  for  the  harvest.  To- 
day the  station  of  Vaud,  named  after  a 
province  of  Switzerland,  stands  in  the  midst 
of  a  waste  of  drowned- out  crops.  The  new- 
comer, entering  the  Pecos  Eden  by  way  of 
Vaud,  wonders  if  this  is  what  he  came  to  see. 
Faith  is  only  restored  by  a  visit  to  the  Greene 
vineyards,  where  95  per  cent  of  the  nearly 
250,000  grapevines  planted  on  520  acres 


more  he  studied  irrigation  the  greater  grew 
his  faith  in  it  and  the  less  he  cared  for  his 
advertising  columns.  He  visited  the  Pecos 
Valley  in  his  pursuit  of  irrigation  experience, 
and  linked  his  fortunes  wTith  Mr.  Eddy,  the 
ranchman,  and  Mr.  Hagerman,  the  railroad 
builder.  Of  the  three  Mr.  Greene  was  the  one 
who  could  talk.  It  fell  to  him  to  fill  the  posi- 
tion of  promoter.  He  went  to  Chicago  with 
not  much  more  than  the  clothes  on  his  back, 
took  a  bare  room  and  put  a  little  furniture  in 
it  to  reduce  the  cost  of  living.  Before  the 
bonds  were  placed  Mr.  Greene  was  in  straits 
for  foodA  But  his  persuasive  tongue  and  his 
thorough  acquaintance  with  the  possibilities 
of  irrigation  won.  He  now  lives  at  the  high- 
est-priced hotel  in  New  York  v/hen  he  is  in 
the  East  looking  after  financial  matters.  He 
travels  in  a  private  car  when  he  comes  West. 
A  single  bond  deal  recently  netted  him  $90,- 
000. 

But  large  profits  are  necessary  to  carry  on 
such  irrigation  ideas  as  Mr.  Greene  fosters. 
In  the  suburbs  of  Eddy  this  man  has  a  nur- 
sery, propagating  houses  and  an  outfit  for 
creating  a  park.  As  the  beginning  he  is  lay- 
ing out  240  acres  with  winding  drives,  shade 
and  fruit  trees  and  lawn.  This  he  will  keep 
under  control  until  well  established.  Then 


-39- 


he  will  divide  it  into  residence  sites  and  sell 
to  those  who  do  not  know  so  much  about  irri- 
gation as  he  does.  When  trees  and  grass  are 
once  well  started  the  rest  is  easy.  When  the 
240  acres  are  in  a  forward  state  Mr.  Greene 
will  add  to  it  another  addition  similarly  im- 
proved by  irrigation.  This  collection  of  resi- 
dence sites  is  called  Greene  Park.  But  the 
park  and  the  520  acres  of  grapes  are  only  two 


he  has  any  payments  to  make.  The  alfalfa 
will  be  paying  handsomely  by  that  time. 
Mr.  Greene  further  proposes  to  loan  the  buyer 
money  to  make  improvements.  That  is  if  the 
buyer  has  $500  or  $1000  and  wants  as  much 
more  to  put  into  improvements  Mr.  Greene  will 
loan  it  and  take  a  lien  on  the  property.  Some 
of  these  forty-acre  tracts  already  have  their 
twenty-acre  patches  of  alfalfa.  Raw  land, 


THE  GATEWAY  TO  THE  CANAL. 


of  the  projects  of  Mr.  Greene.  In  the  valley 
a  company,  of  which  he  is  the  head,  has  1920 
acres  at  one  place  and  3,000  acres  at  another. 
This  is  some  of  the  land  nobody  would  take 
from  the  Government.  It  is  now  reached  by 
the  laterals  of  the  great  canal.  The  whole  5,000 
acres  is  being  divided  into  forty- acre  tracts. 
Mr.  Greene  clears  the  land  of  the  mesquite 
roots,  plows  and  ditches  it.  Twenty  acres  of  the 
forty  goes  into  alfalfa.  Ten  acres,  half  of  the 
remainder,  is  set  out  to  fruit,  a  choice  assort- 
ment. When  the  alfalfa  is  well  rooted  and 
the  fruit  trees  begin  to  bear  Mr.  Greene  will 
sell  these  forty  acre  tracts.  He  knows  by  ob- 
servation that  the  beginner  with  irrigation 
makes  many  blunders.  He  proposes  to  put 
each  forty  acres  beyond  the  critical  period 
and  to  assure  the  purchaser  a  good  start  be- 
fore he  sells.  The  price  of  the  forty  acres 
thus  started  will  be  $60  an  acre,  one-fourth 
cash,  the  balance  in  two,  three  and  four 
years. 

"The  point  is,"  said  Mr.  RusseL,  who  looks 
after  Mr.  Greene's  interests,  "the  purchaser 
get  two  years'  cutting  of  the  alfalfa  before 


without  anything  upon  it,  is  worth  $25  to  $40 
an  acre." 

This  is  what  water  for  irrigation  does.  The 
company  which  has  dammed  the  river  and 
dug  the  canals  owns  the  water  and  sells  it  at 
$1.25  an  acre  for  the  season.  An  owner  of 
forty  acres  of  land,  therefore,  has  $80  a  year 
water  rent,  but  on  the  payment  of  it  he  is  as- 
sured perfect  control  of  his  crops  if  he  knows 
how  to  irrigate. 

Mr.  Greene  has  spent  over  $150,000  in  im- 
proving and  preparing  his  lands  since  the  1st 
of  December.  His  pay-roll  ran  up  in  one 
month  to  $12,750.  One  of  Mr.  Greene's 
minor  enterprises  is  an  addition  of  town  lots, 
on  each  one  of  which  he  starts  by  irrigation 
twenty  fruit  trees  before  he  sells.  Scattered 
through  the  addition  are  eight  little  parks, 
each  of  which  Is  being  supplied  with  shrub- 
bery. 

Near  where  the  Eddy  ranch  house  still 
stands  is  the  suburb  of  La  Huerta,  covering 
1500  acres.  It  is  divided  into  five-acre  tracts, 
each  one  leveled,  divided  into  alfalfa,  garden 
and  .fruit,  and  improved  to  suit  the 


-40- 


taste  of  the  owner.  Each  five-acre  tract 
means  the  site  of  a  fine  home. 
Land  in  La  Huerta  is  worth  $100  an 
acre.  In  the  gardens  of  La  Huerta  are  shown 
some  of  the  examples  of  what  irrigation  can 
do.  In  an  orchard  of  last  year's  planting  the 
tape  line  shows  the  growth  this  season  on 
apple  trees  to  be  from  20  inches  to  37  inches. 
On  apricot  trees  this  season's  growth  is  5  feet 
and  6  inches.  A  plum  tree  shows  23  inches 
growth,  and  a  peach  38  inches.  Such  were 
the  measurements  when  this  was  written. 
When  it  reaches  the  reader  a  few  days  hence 


there  the  white  walls  of  the  Hagerman  man- 
sion are  rising. 

Hagerman  is  a  fine  type  of  the  self-made 
Western  man.  Greene  is  fond  of  irrigation 
per  se,  and  has  studied  out  all  the  details  of 
it.  Eddy's  mind  runs  to  broad  acres  and  the 
number  of  them.  Hagerman 's  inclination  is 
toward  construction.  His  chief  interest  is  in 
the  dam,  the  canals  and. the  railroad.  The 
three  founders  of  the  enterprise  move  well 
abreast.  They  all  take  pride  that  isn't  meas- 
ured by  dollars  in  the  work.  They  let  nothing 
come  in  the  way  of  success.  Awhile  ago  some 


MEASURING   GROWTH    BY    IRRIGATION. 


there  will  be  considerable  more  growth.  There 
was  nothing  fabulous  about  Jack' s  bean  stalk 
if  it  had  been  planted  in  the  Pecos  Valley  and 
irrigated. 


The  founders  of  Eddy  and  the  Pecos  canal 
system  have  evidently  come  to  stay.  They 
are  not  boomers  who  expect  to  sell  out  and 
move  on.  The  lavish  manner  in  which  Mr. 
Greene  has  spread  out  his  profits  in  park  and 
vineyards  and  forty-acre  farms  has  been  men- 
tioned. All  he  has  is  here.  Mr.  Eddy,  the 
original  ranch-owner,  who  first  dreamed  of 
the  possibilities  which  have  come  to  pass,  has 
built  a  home  in  interesting  contrast  with 
the  old  ranch  headquarters.  Upon  an  eleva- 
tion overlooking  the  city  and  the  valley  Mr. 
Hagerman  is  constnicting  the  finest  stone  man- 
sion ever  built  upon  a  desert- land  entry.  The 
site  is  far  above  the  level  of  the  canal — so  far 
that  nobody  thought  of  taking  possession  of 
it,  even  though  a  city  was  growing  in  the  val- 
ley below.  Mrs.  Hagerman  entered  the  640 
acres,  a  mile  square,  under  the  desert-land 
law.  Water  is  taken  up  the  height  by  hy- 
draulic rams  and  stored  in  a  reservoir.  And 


people  up  the  valley  held  water  rights  which 
the  company  wanted. 

"  How  much  will  it  take  to  buy  them  out?" 
Hagerman  asked. 

After  some  figuring  the  reply  was,  "  At  least 
$250,000." 

"  Buy  them  out,"  was  the  order. 

Hagerman  has  a  bull-dog  tenacity  for  hold- 
ing on.  He  is  reticent.  An  expression  of 
sentiment  from  his  lips  is  a  rarity.  The  other 
day  he*  rode  out  with  the  manager  of  the 
company,  viewing  certain  improvements  and 
authorizing  in  his  matter-of-fact  way  ex- 
penditures here  and  there.  Toward  the  end 
of  the  drive  the  magnate  and  the  manager  as- 
cended an  elevation.  The  whole  scene  was 
spread  before  them— the  city,  the  farms,  the 
railroad,  the  canals.  The  manager  stopped 
the  team,  and  in  silence  a  long  look  was 
taken.  At  length  the  manager  asked:  . 

"  How  does  it  strike  you  Mr.  Hagerman  ?" 

"Mr.  Clark,  it  touches  me  right  here,"  re- 
sponded the  man  of  few  words,  and  he  put  his 
hand  on  his  heart. 

It  cost  Mr.  Hagerman  $11,000  to  get  the 
water  up  to  Mrs.  Hagerman's  desert-land  en- 


-41- 


try.  He  is  spending  $50,000  on  the  stone 
mansion.  That  is  pretty  good  evidence  of  an 
intention  to  stay. 


Alfalfa!  alfalfa!  It  is  the  open  sesame  of  the 
Pecos  Valley.  You  see  it  everywhere,  and 
hear  about  it  after  dark  when  you  can't  see  it. 
The  landholder  who  hasn't  a  patch  of  alfalfa 
is  unhappy.  Alfalfa  is  aggressive;  it  chokes 
out  all  weeds;  when  it  is  once  well  rooted  it  is 
there  to  stay,  with  an  occasional  wetting  from 
the  ditch.  The  alfalfa  growers  have  never  yet 
overstocked  their  market.  They  get '$12  a 
ton— sometimes  more,  sometimes  a  little  less, 
but  always  a  handsome  profit.  They  cut  it 
three  and  four  times  a  year,  and  get  from  one 
to  two,  and  sometimes  two  and  a  half  tons  to 
the  acre  each  time.  Alfalfa  is  clover,  and  its 
blossom  furnishes  the  flavor  for  a  honey  that 
is  nectar.  One  man  in  the  Pecos  Valley  has 
grasped  the  situation.  He  has  surrounded  his 
house  with  colonies  of  bees  which  improve 
the  shining  hours  upon  the  alfalfa  fields  of  his 
neighbors.  The  days  on  the  Rio  Pecos— "Holy 
River,"  so  named  by  a  priest  in  the  Cortez 
following  who  came  here  and  found  the  na- 
tives keeping  alive  beside  it  the  holy  fire  for 


that  is  done  there  will  be  200,000  acres  of 
alfalfa  growing  along  the  Pecos.  What  in  the 
world  will  be  done  with  it  ?  The  busy  thinkers 
have  already  figured  on  that  proposition. 
They  say  that  alfalfa  will  not  go  below  $8  or 
$10  a  ton.  Last  year  the  cattlemen  near  the 


THE   EDDY   RANCH. 


valley  drove  their  steers  into  pens,  fed  them 
alfalfa  from  November  to  February,  and  put 
them  into  market  rolling  fat,  thereby  compet- 
ing with  the  corn-fed  steers  of  Kansas.  These 
steers  were  worth  from  $14  to  $17  taken  from 
the  range.  Fattened  on  alfalfa  they  sold  at 
$35  to  $50  a  head.  They  ate  two  tons  of  alfal- 


THS  PECOS    VALLEY    AT  THE  DAM. 


the  return  of  a  dimly  remembered  Messiah- 
are  long  and  cloudless.  Bees  do  not  need  the 
aid  of  lightning  b ugs  to  lengthen  their  hours  of 
labor.  In  a  few  years  half  of  this  Pecos  Valley 
will  be  in  alfalfa,  and  then  what  train  loads  of 
honey  will  leave  it  for  the  Eastern  markets! 

Before  they  stop  digging  ditches  the  men  at 
the  head  of  the  enterprise  say  they  will  bring 
the  water  to  400,000  acres  of  land.  And  when 


fa.  There  is  the  basis  on  which  it  is  figured 
that  alfalfa  will  always  be  worth  at  least  $8  a 
ton  along  the  Pecos,  for  300,000  cattle  and 
100,000  sheep  range  within  fifty  miles  of  the 
valley.  At  $8  a  ton  for  alfalfa  the  farmer  can 
pay  for  labor  and  water  rental  and  net  $40  per 
acre .  Such  are  the  alluring  figures  presented 
with  great  confidence  by  those  who  have  faith 
in  the  future  of  the  holy  river.  W.  B.  S . 


-42- 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


Queer  Industries  in  the  Heart  of  the 
Late  Great  American  Desert. 


A  Canaigre  Farm— Nature's  Salt  Works 

—Cactus     Rope— How    One    man 

Kept  Tab  on  Irrigation— A 

Great     Show. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

IN  THE  PECOS  VALLEY  OF  TEXAS,  August  18. — 
The  traveler  in  this  region  will  occasionally 
come  upon  a  group  of  tents,  a  portable  en- 
gine, a  little  mill,  a  great  heap  of  tangled 
roots  and  a  curious  looking  product  spread 
out  on  sheets  to  dry.  This  is  the  canaigre  in- 
dustry. Indians  have  known,  perhaps  for 
centuries,  the  uses  of  canaigre.  Americans 
have  within  a  year  or  so  discovered  that  it 
can  be  made  an  article  of  commerce.  And 
now  canaigre  root,  ground  and  dried  and  put 
up  in  sacks,  is  shipped  out  of  the  Pecos  Val- 
ley by  the  carload.  It  goes  abroad.  From 
the  rapid  development  of  the  industry  it  ap- 
pears that  there  must  be  a  good  margin  of 
profit. 


every  pound  that  can  be  turned  out.  Canaigre 
root  as  it  flourishes  in  the  valley  is  gathered  at 
a  cost  of  $4  to  &6  per  ton.  An  acre  of  can- 
aigre in  the  wild  state  will  yield  six  to  eight 
tons.  The  curing  is  simple.  When  the  out- 
fit exhausts  one  locality  it  can  strike  tents, 
pick  up  the  engine  and  mill  and  move  to  a 
new  field.  The  cured  product  is  worth  $80  a 
ton  in  Europe.  The  demand  seems  to  be  per- 
manent and  the  margin  of  profit  is  good.  One 
man  in  the  Pecos  Valley  has  gone  into  the 
business  on  a  permanent  basis.  He  has  a 
canaigre  farm  of  640  acres — a  mile  square. 
From  such  experiments  as  have  been  made, 
this  canaigre  farmer  believes  he  will  obtain 
ten  to  twenty  tons  of  roots  from  an  acre  by 
cultivation.  Beets  give  a  tremendous  yield 
on  this  irrigated  land.  As  much  as  twenty  • 
six  tons  of  boots  to  the  acre  was  produced  last 
year.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  canaigro 
roots  will  do  almost  as  well.  Heaped  up  the 
canaigre  roots  look  not  unlike  a  crop  of  bsets. 
They  grind  easily  and  dry  quickly  spread  out 
on  sheets  under  the  blazing  sun.  After  that, 
all  that  remains  to  be  done  is  the  sacking. 
The  product  is  ready  for  market.  The  canaigre 
industry  is  using  up  the  wild  root  faster  than 
it  reproduces  itself.  Unless  there  is  cultiva- 
tion the  industry  can  not  but  be  short-lived. 


THE  OIABLO   MOUNTAINS   AT  VAN  HORN. 


Canaigre  is  a  close  relative  of  the  sour  dock 
which  is  found  in  the  fields  of  the  North. 
Above  ground  the  canaigre  makes  only  a 
moderate  show  of  stalk  and  leaves.  Below 
ground  it  spreads  itself  and  grows  until  it  de- 
velops roots  as  large  as  a  man's  arm.  It  has 
been  growing  wild  in  this  Pecos  Valley  ever 
since  white  men  knew  anything  about  the 
country.  But  it  is  recently  that  those  who 
deal  in  such  things  have  learned  that  it  con- 
tains four  times  as  much  tannin  as  anything 
else  that  vegetates.  Mr.  Donald  Allen,  the 
Superintendent  of  the  Pecos  Valley  Railroad, 
called  the  attention  of  exporters  to  this  prod- 
uct, and  now  there  is  a  profitable  market  for 


This  Western  Texas  is  a  great  country  for 
new  industries.  It  is  even  proposed  to  utilize 
the  cactus,  which  grows  in  great  variety  and 
luxuriance  on  the  mountain  sides.  One  kind, 
called  the  Spanish  bayonet,  is  3  feet  high.  It 
is  a  broad-leaf  plant.  Another  and  shorter 
variety  is  the  mescal  plant.  From  this  the 
Mexican  makes  his  mescal,  a  fiery  liquid, 
which  will  nerve  the  drinker  to  rob  the  dead 
or  run  for  Congress  if  he  takes  enough  of  it. 
The  leaves  of  these  varieties  of  cactus  have 
been  worked  up  into  fiber  which  makes  good 
rope.  Some  of  the  products  of  the  cactus 
fiber  from  Western  Texas  have  been  prepared 
for  exhibition  at  the  World's  Fair  next  year. 


-43 


A  part  of  the  leaf  is  left  as  it  grows  and  the 
other  end  is  shown  in  the  condition  of  fiber. 
The  contrast  is  striking.  The  trunk  of  the 
Spanish  bayonet  contains  good  paper  stock. 
These  varieties  of  cactus  grow  wild ,  and  the 
enterprising  people  of  the  transpecos  coun- 
try are  beginning  to  wonder  if  cultivation 
will  not  add  to  their  value.  A  cactus  farm 
would  be  a  novelty,  but  it  is  not 


ing  water,  but  it  struck  petroleum,  80  feet  of 
rock  salt  and  other  things.  The  boring 
stopped  for  awhile.  Colorado  City  offered  its 
hole  for  sale,  but  found  no  takers.  After 
awhile  somebody  thought  of  making  use  of 
the  salt.  The  hole  was  bored  deeper.  It 
struck  fresh  water  which  arose  to  within  200 
or  300  feet  of  the  surface  and  dissolved  the 
rock  salt.  A  pump  was  put  down.  A  wind- 


THE   CANAIGRE    INDUSTRY. 


an  impossibility.  The  cactus  fiber  in  the 
manufactured  state  looks  very  strong  and  dur- 
able. The  only  question  is  about  the  cost  of 
getting  the  fiber  out  of  the  thick  pulpy  look- 
ing leaves.  Machinery,  it  is  claimed,  can  be 
devised  to  do  the  work.  Industrial  uses  for 
the  cactus  are  novelties.  When  drouth  comes 
and  grass  dies  the  lives  of  herds  are  often  pro- 
longed in  Southwest  Texas  by  the  use  of  cac- 
tus for  forage.  A  starving  longhorn  cow, 
with  an  expression  of  desperate  determina- 
tion, will  gingerly  mouth  and  at  length  mas- 
ticate a  piece  of  cactus,  thorns  and  all.  But 
the  humane  cowman  cuts  the  cactus  and  gives 
it  just  enough  roasting  with  a  quick  fire  to 
burn  the  thorns  before  feeding.  There  is  bet- 
ter forage  than  cactus,  but  the  latter  will,  on 
pinch,  keep  life  in  the  hide.  The  Panhandle 
cowman  says  a  cactus  patch  is  considered  a 
very  desirable  thing  on  a  Southwest  Texas 
ranch. 


Texas  cattle  are  licking  Texas  salt  by  the  car 
load.  Five  or  six  years  ago  the  people 
of  Colorado  City,  away  out  on  the 
rugged  bluffs  of  the  Colorado  River, 
felt  that  they  had  reached  a  degree  of 
advancement  which  justified  municipal  airs. 
They  thought  they  ought  to  have  a  City  Coun- 
cil. When  they  got  that,  they  discovered  that 
their  water  supply  wasn't  what  it  ought  to  be. 
There  came  in  a  class  of  high-toned  settlers 
who  weren't  satisfied  with  whisky  and  water, 
but  wanted  all  water,  and  good  water,  too. 
The  City  Council  in  due  deliberation  moved  in 
the  matter.  A  considerable  fund  was  raised, 
and  a  deep  hole  was  bored.  The  drill  went 
down  1200  feet.  It  didn't  find  good  drink- 


mill  was  hoisted  above  the  pump. 
The  wind  raised  the  salt  water 
which  was  run  into  a  reservoir.  This  West 
Texas  sun  which  shines  about  340  days  in  the 
year  did  the  rest.  Colorado  City  had  salt. 
Other  wells  have  been  bored.  Windmills 
have  been  hoisted  in  rows  until  Don  Quixote 
might  think  he  saw,  by  the  moonlight,  a 
whole  army  defying  him.  The  process  com- 
mends itself  to  an  economical,  not  to  say  a 


MOVING   UP  THE    PECOS   VALLEY. 

lazy  man.  The  water  dissolves  the  rock  salt. 
The  wind  raises  the  water.  The  sun  evapo- 
rates the  water  and  leaves  the  salt  on  the 
ground.  Could  anything  be  easier?  Manual 
labor  is  necessary  to  scrape  up  the  salt  and 
barrel  it,  and  that  is  all.  A  30-foot  wind- 
mill raises  from  5,000  to  8,000  gallons  of  salt 
water  in  an  hour.  Of  the  salt  thus  manu- 
factured by  nature's  forces  Colorado  City 
ships  out  several  hundred  car  loads  a  month. 
A  chemical  analysis  shows  this  salt  to  be  98 
per  cent  pure.  In  a  country  where  there  was 
less  sunshine  and  wind  salt-making  could  not 
be  carried  on  so  successfully. 


-44- 


The  talk  of  the  promoter  is  interesting,  but 
not  always  satisfying  as  to  detail.  The  aver- 
age farmer  is  inclined  to  tell  of  his  big  crops 
and  not  of  the  small  ones,  unless  he  is  in  the 


investment  and  wear  and  tear  of  tools.  One 
might  search  long,  especially  in  this  free  and 
easy  Western  country,  without  finding  an- 
other such  analysis  of  work  with  irrigation. 


NATURE'S   SALT  WORKS    AT   COLORADO   CITY. 


third  party.  A  farm  on  which  books  are  kept 
with  the  same  thoroughness  that  the  success- 
ful merchant  exercises  is  a  great  rarity.  There 
is  one  such  farm  near  Pecos  City.  It  is  only 
forty  acres,  and  of  this  only  thirty-three  have 
been  cultivated.  The  owner  has  put  down  the 
cents  and  pounds.  As  might  be  supposed, 


AN   ARTESIAN   SPOUTER   AT   PECOS   CITY. 

he  is  not  a  practical  farmer.  He  has  other 
business.  His  commercial  habits  prompted 
him  to  keep  a  strict  account.  All  of  the  farm 
work  was  done  by  hired  men.  The  balance 
feheet  takes  into  consideration  interest  on  the 


Here  is  the  showing  for  a  single  season  on  the 
forty  acres,  with  thirty-three  in  crops: 

To  8  per  cent  interest  on  $2,394.65,  cost  of 
lands,  water  rights,  orchard,  canals, bor- 
ders, tools,  houses,  fencing,  etc $19157 

Twenty-five  per  cent  wear  on  $297.50  worth 

of  implements 7187 

Harvesting  and  baling  alfalfa 17800 

Harvesting  oats 80  00 

Seeding  and  harvesting  garden 85000 

Seeding  five  acres  in  grain  30  00 

Irrigating  farm  one  year 3020 

Seeding  and   harvesting   oats,  millet   and 

sorghum 80  00 

Total  outlay 

Cabbage,  1033  pounds  at  6c 


6198 
2196 
17  79 
54  21 
11  40 
188  75 
15  25 


Turnips,  549  pounds  at  4c 

Beets,  593  pounds  at  3c 

Sweet  potatoes,  1856  pounds  at  4c 

Squashes,  285  pounds  at  4c 

Sorghum  hay,  12)£  tons  at  $15 

Muskmelons,  305at5c 

Prairie  hay,  12  tons  at  $15 

Millet  hay,  6125  pounds  at  $15  per  ton 

Watermelons,  421  at  15c 

Oats  in  sheaf,  34,330  pounds  at  $15  per  ton. . 

Alfalfa,  178,672  pounds  at  $15  per  ton 1,340  04 

Onions,  7837  pounds  at  4c ..      31348 

Irish  potatoes,  541  pounds  at  4c 

Peanuts,  440  pounds  at  71/2^ 


4593 

63  15 

257  47 


21  64 


Deduct  total  outlay 

Cash  balance  to  profit. 


$2,666  08 
961  64 


$1,704  44 

This,  it  can  readily  be  figured,  is  a  return  of 
about  75  per  cent  on  the  investment.  It  is  a 
net  profit  of  $51.65  cash  per  acre.  The  fun 
which  this  amateur  farmer  enjoyed  is  not 
tak-m  into  account.  He  says  tli.-il  if  In-  li;i<l 
lived  on  the  place  he  could  have  added  at  least 


-45- 


$500  from  poultry,  pigs  and  the  usual  small 
items.  Being  a  man  of  details  he  probably 
could  have  done  it. 


East  of  the  Pecos,  between  that  river  and  the 
Colorado,  lies  the  country  of  deceptions.  It 
is  the  great  Staked  Plain  which  stretches  away 
to  the  Panhandle.  The  air  is  dry  and  clear. 
A  mountain  forty  miles  away  seems  to  be  not 
one-fourth  that  distance.  A  good  pair  of  eyes 
will  see  twice  as  far  and  about  ten  times  as 
much  in  this  region  as  under  ordinary  condi- 
tions. If  the  vision  doesn't  embrace  a  good 
many  unrealities  as  well  as  realities  it  will  be 
an  unusual  day  for  the  Staked  Plain.  The  at- 


see  a  fine  little  city  in  the  midst  of  a  glisten- 
ing lake.  The  silvery  water  moves  in  ripples 
as  if  before  a  gentle  breeze.  About  300  wind- 
mills are  apparently  in  motion  above  the  city, 
and  it  does  not  seem  that  the  space  they  stand 
upon  can  exceed  a  mile  square.  Around  the 
city  and  the  lake  is  a  fringe  of  dark  green  tim- 
ber. Beyond  the  timber  is  a  boundless  ex- 
panse of  green  grass.  On  the  prairie  cattle 
may  be  seen  grazing.  The  traveler,  reflecting 
upon  the  lake  and  the  excess  of  windmills, 
may  wonder  if  the  Midlanders  are  web-footed 
that  they  have  so  many  windmills  and  raise 
water  until  their  houses  are  swamped.  But  as 
the  train  comes  nearer  what  strangeness!  The 


A  PECOS   VALLEY  HOME. 


mosphere  plays  freaks  as  well  as  makes  reve- 
lations. When  the  sun  is  just  right  it  is  possi- 
ble to  see  a  belt  of  timber  where  none  exists. 
A  ranch  may  be  lifted  out  of  a  valley  and  set 
on  a  hill.  A  sheep  herder  grows  into  gigantic 
proportions  and  his  lambs  become  elephan- 
tine. A  railroad  train  in  the  distance  looms 
up  a  hundred  feet  high,  and  appears  to  be 
about  five  miles  long.  These  are 
some  of  the  common  deceptions  the 
rarified  atmosphere  of  the  Staked  Plain 
plays  upon  the  tenderfoot.  Three  or  four 
miles  to  the  eastward  of  Midland,  if  it  be 
about  noon  of  a  sunny  day,  the  stranger  will 


cows  in  the  foreground  grow  to  mastodons. 
The  jack  rabbit  is  as  large  as  a  jack  without 
the  rabbit.  The  sheep  seem  to  be  woolly 
horses.  The  buildings  shoot  up  into  the 
heavens  like  Chicago's  sky-scrapers.  The 
windmills  become  so  many  Eiffel  towers 
standing  on  nothing.  The  people  walking 
across  the  street  tread  on  air.  There  is  no  law 
of  gravity.  The  lake  has  suddenly  disap- 
peared. The  traveler  steps  from  the  car  upon 
a  real  platform  and  out  upon  the  dusty,  sandy 
thoroughfare  of  an  every- day  Texas  town.  It 
was  the  mirage.  W.  B.  8 . 


—  46- 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


Visit  to   the   Only  Survivor  of  the 
Bold  Buccaneers. 


The  Veteran  Cronea's  Recollections  of 
Service  with  the  Pirates. 


Lafltte  and  His  Favorite  Lieutenant 
The  Freebooter's  Camp  on 
Snake  Island. 


The  Mutiny  on  the  Privateer— A  Graphic 
Version  of  San  Jacinto— Four  Gene- 
rations on  One  Porch— Bolivar 
Peninsula  Phenomena— 
The  High  Islands- 
The  Oil  Ponds. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

ROLL  OVER,  BOLIVAR  PENINSULA,  TEX., 
August  25.— At  the  age  of  87,  Charles  Cronea 
remembers  the  name  of  the  street  and  the 
number  of  the  house  in  which  he  was  born  in 
a  town  of  the  South  of  France.  He  is  the  last 
living  link  with  the  days  of  Lafitte  and  the 
bold  buccaneers  of  the  Gulf.  Seventy-one 
years  ago  he  was  a  cabin  boy  on  a  pirate  ship. 
He  sailed  these  waters  with  Campbell,  who 
had  been  Lafitte 's  lieutenant.  He  saw  many 
a  chase  at  sea.  He  was  there  when  the  "Long 
Tom,"  mounted  on  a  pivot,  sent  the  huge 
18-pound  ball  across  the  bow  of  the  doomed 
merchantman.  "  He  saw  the  torch  applied  to 
the  prize,  and  the  choicest  part  of  the  cargo 
brought  aboard  the  privateer.  After  a 
mutiny  he  waited  for  the  cutlass  to  fall  across 
his  neck,  and  then  lived  to  see  ninety- two 
children,  grandchildren  and  great-grandchil- 
dren. The  scenes  of  those  days  come  back  to 
the  old  man  with  wonderful  freshness.  He 
talks  frsely,  stopping  now  and  then  to  ex- 
plain that  it  was  "an  ugly  scrape,"  and  that 
when  he  got  out  of  it  he  had  "had  enough  of 
that  kind  of  thing  to  last  him  all  his  life." 

A  strip  of  land  runs  down  the  Texas  coast 
from  near  the  Louisiana  line.  That  is  Bolivar 
Peninsula.  It  terminates  in  Bolivar  Point. 
Five  miles  across  a  channel  from  "  the 
point ' '  Galveston  Island  begins  and  the  City 
of  Galveston  has  its  site.  About  midway  of 
its  length  Bolivar  Peninsula  narrows  until 
upon  the  map  it  is  only  a  black  line.  That  is 
Roll  Over.  Upon  •  Roll  Over  is  the  home  of 
Charles  Cronea.  When  the  Gulf  is  angry  its 
spray  is  dashed  against  the  old  man's  front 
door.  From  his  back  door  stretches  the  great 
Galveston  Bay.  The  veteran  is  as  near  to  the 
salt  water  as  he  can  get  without  being  afloat. 

To  Roll  Over  was  a  journey  not  soon  to  be 
forgotten.  It  began  an  hour  before  daylight. 
When  the  sun  came  up  out  of  the  bosom  of 


the  Gulf  the  White  Wings,  best  of  the  Gal- 
veston yacht  fleet,  was  speeding  with  well- 
filled  sails  straight  for  the  tall  white  and 
black  ringed  light-house  on  Bolivar  point. 
Bolivar  once  had  a  boom.  "  The  point "  wa  - 
staked  off  and  town  lots  were  put  upon  the 
market.  With  that  the  boom  ended.  There 
are  not  enough  people  living  at  the  point  now 
to  occupy  the  houses  which  the  Government 
built  when  it  was  constructing  jetties  on  the 
mattress  plan.  A.  small  boat  yard,  where  the 
craft  which  ply  the  bay  can  be  hauled  out  and 


MR.    CRONEA   AT  87. 


repaired ,  is  the  point' s  only  industry.  Broad- 
\\iiy  and  the  town  lots  are  unsettled  save  by 
mosquitoes,  remarkable  for  numbers,  size  and 
aggressiveness. 

When  Mr.  Pettit,  of  Galveston,  a  friend  of 
the  old  veteran,  learned  of  the  intended  visit, 
he  said:  "I'd  advise  you  to  wait  a  week.  The 
mosquitoes  are  awful  bad  on  Bolivar  just 
now.  There  has  been  rain  and  the  wind  has 
blown  from  the  north.  That  always  means 
mosquitoes." 

Mr.  Pettit' s  warning  could  not  be  heeded. 
It  was  well  remembered.  The  early  morning 
sail  was  magnificent.  The  ride  across  the  flat 
from  the  pokit  to  the  light  house  was  misery. 
Mr.  Crockett,  the  light-house  keeper,  came  oufc 
with  a  serious  face. 


-47- 


"Last  night,"  said  he,  "Was  the  worst  of 
the  season.  We  had  to  keep  smudge  fires  go- 
ing all  night  long  to  save  the  horses.  If  you 
take  the  beach  I  expect  you  can  get  along. 
But  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  try  the  ridge 
road." 

The  light-house  keeper  cut  a  mosquito-bar 
in  two,  and,  like  a  good  Samaritan,  saw  that 
heads  and  faces  were  well  covered.  He 
brought  out  gloves  and  stockings  to  be  drawn 
over  the  hands.  He  furnished  a  bottle  of  coal 
oil.  Then  the  battle  with  the  mosquitoes  of 
Bolivar  began.  It  lasted  until  the  beach  was 
reached.  Before,  behind  and  on  both  sides  of 
the  wagon  went  the  mosquitoes.  They  made 
no  noise.  These  Bolivar  mosquitoes  are  not 
singers.  They  are  too  full  of  business  to 
waste  time  on  music.  There  was  one  honor- 
able way  out  of  the  contest.  The  son  of  the 
lighthouse  man,  who  accompanied  us  as  guide , 


WHITE  WINGS. 


philosopher  and  friend,  knew  that  way.  By 
the  shortest  cut  he  made  for  the  beach  and 
drove  down  to  the  water's  edge,  where  the 
light  surf  coming  in  washed  the  wheels.  And 
thus  he  followed  the  water  line  hour  after 
hour.  The  mosquitoes  were  outwitted.  Be- 
fore the  damp  salt  breeze  they  fell  back.  It 
was  a  great  relief,  the  full  measure  of  which 
was  appreciated  every  time  a  little  excursion 
was  made  inland.  Ten  thousand  cattle  were 
strung  along  the  surf  line,  hugging  it  closely 
to  escape  the  mosquitoes.  They,  too,  had 
discovered  the  only  possible  relief. 

The  light-house  man's  boy  is  an  authority 
on  mosquitoes.  He  pointed  out  a  section  of 
the  peninsula  where  he  confidently  asserted 
mosquitoes  live  the  year  round.  Bolivar  is 
famous  for  its  climate.  Lying  between  the 


waters  of  gulf  and  bay,  it  is  a  region  of  al- 
most perpetual  vegetation.  Frost  is  of  the 
rarest  occurrence.  Oranges  and  pomegranates 
thrive,  and  the  "  early  vegetables  "  antedate 
Florida's  crop.  There  may  be  beaches  equal 
to  that  along  Bolivar  peninsula.  There  can  bo 
none  better.  As  the  tide  goes  out  it  leaves  a 
stretch  of  white  sand,  pounded  by  the  surf  as 
hard  as  asphalt.  The  wheels  make  a  mark, 
but  cut  no  impression.  So  slight  is  the  dip 
toward  the  sea  that  the  beach  seems  a  dead 
level.  And  this  roadway  of  nature  can  be 
followed  straight  as  the  crow  flies  hour  after 
hour. 


The  origin  of  the  name  of  Roll  Over  is  in- 
teresting. Some  people  will  tell  you  that 
by  reason  of  the  narrowness  of  the  peninsula 
at  this  point  the  high  waves  of  the  Gulf  have 
been  known  to  roll  over  the  neck  and  into 
the  bay.  But  the  old  inhabitants  have  an  en- 
tirely different  explanation.  They  say  that 
the  smugglers  and  pirates  used  to  bring  their 
plunder  from  the  Gulf  to  this  place.  The 
smugglers  could  quickly  roll  over  the  casks 
of  brandy  and  the  bales  of  goods  from  the 
Gulf  side  to  the  bay,  and  thus  reach  inland 
waters  and  their  market  without  detection. 
Old  Mr.  Cronea,  with  a  laugh,  said  he  reckon- 
ed the  theory  of  the  smuggling  use  of  Roll 
Over  was  about  right.  ' '  That  is  the  way  I 
think  it  got  the  name, ' '  he  said. 

The  veteran  was  born  in  1805,  on  the  14th 
of  January.  He  was  only  a  boy  when  he 
found  himself  in  the  pirate  service,  but  his 
recollections  are  clear.  Some  of  the  places 
he  mentions  have  faded  almost  out  of  mem- 
ory, or  have  new  names.  To  some  of  his 
words  the  old  man  gives  a  pronunciation 
which  has  a  distinctly  piratical  flavor.  Cut- 
lasses he  always  calls  "cut-lash-es."  The 
bayonet  is  always  "the  bagnet."  And  occa- 
sionally he  "swears  like  a  pirate,"  in  the 
gentlest  of  voices. 

Hanging  on  the  wall  of  the  Roll  Over  home 
is  a  picture  of  the  old  man  taken  at  70.  It 
shows  that  he  comes  well  by  his  remarkable 
preservation.  He  shakes  his  head  half  mourn, 
fully  and  says  "you  should  have 
seen  my  legs  and  arms  a  few 
years  ago.  My  arms  were  so  big 
and  as  hard  as  iron.  Now  feel  them  ' '  The 
eyes. are  hazel.  They  were  as  black  as  the 
sloe-like  windows  of  the  soul  through  which 
the  great  grandson  looks  wonderingly  to-day. 
The  veteran's  hair  is  long,  wavy,  thin  and 
silvery.  It  was  thick,  bushy  and  jet  black. 
But  the  mind  has  outlived  the  body.  The  old 
man  speaks  quickly  and  decidedly.  He  is  at 
no  loss  for  words  or  ideas.  He  talked  for  two 
hours  without  any  apparent  feeling  of  fatigue 
and  then  he  said:  "There,  that's  all  I  can 
tell  you."  But  a  question  started  a  fresh 
train  of  reminiscences.  The  stock  was  almost 
inexhaustible. 


-48- 


Before  he  was  12  years  old  Charles  Cronea 
was  on  a  French  frigate.  He  served  awhile  on 
the  coast  of  Africa,  and  then  left  without 
waiting  for  the  formalities.  He  reached  New 
York  and  shipped  as  cabin  boy  on  a  vessel 
going  to  Charleston.  His  captain  took  on  a 
load  of  cotton.  To  his  consternation  the  boy 
learned  that  the  destination  was  Havre  de 
Grace.  This  meant  capture  and  the  penalty 
for  the  French  leave  he  had  taken  of  the  frig- 
ate. 


came  to  us.  His  ship  was  there  at  anchor.  He 
talked  to  us  awhile  and  we  went  on  board  his 
ship  and  served  with  him.  I  was  too  young  to 
be  one  of  the  crew.  He  made  me  a  cabin 
boy." 

That  was  young  Cronea' s  introduction  to 
the  buccaneers.  During  his  service  he  saw 
many  ships  taken,  plundered  and  burned. 
"Capt.  Campbell,"  said  Mr.  Cronea,  "was  a 
good  man.  He  would  not  kill  any  of  the 
crews.  He  always  made  them  prisoners,  took 


BOLIVAR    POINT. 


"I  left  the  ship,"  continued  the  old  man, 
"and  went  on  board  one  going  to  Liverpool. 
That  was  what  Capt.  Lambert  said,  but  when 
we  got  outside  of  Charleston  harbor  a  man 
who  called  himself  Jones  came  aboard  and 
said  he  wanted  some  of  us  to  go  with  him. 
Our  captain  seemed  perfectly  willing.  I  sup- 
pose it  was  well  understood  between  him  and 
our  captain.  Fifteen  of  us  agreed  to  go  with 
Jones.  There  was  one  Catalonian  in  the 
party.  The  rest  of  us  were  French.  We  went 
with  Jones  and  he  sailed  away  for  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico.  When  he  arrived  off  Corpus  Christi 
he  landed  us  on  an  island  and  left  some 
food  with  us.  After  awhile  Capt.  Campbell 


them  to  some  point  near  the  coast  and  put 
them  in  small  boats  so  that  they  could  get 
ashore.  Most  of  the  vessels  we  captured  were 
in  the  trade  between  Tampico  and  the  Island 
of  Cuba." 

"  Didn't  you  have  some  fighting  to  make  the 
captures  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  no.  They  always  gave  up.  It  wasn't 
any  use  to  resist." 

"  You  were  prepared  to  fight  if  it  was  neces- 
sary ? ' ' 

"Yes,  we  had  pistols,  the  old-fashioned  one- 
barreled  kind,  with  flints.  We  also  had  cut- 
lash-es.  They  were  big  things,  as  keen  as  a 
razor.  They  weighed  about  five  pounds 


-49- 


When  one  of  those  knives  came  down  it  was 
good-bye  Coly." 

"What  sort  of  a  crew  did  you  have,  pretty 
rough? ' ' 

"We  had  the  same  discipline  as  on  board 
a  man-of-war.  We  couldn't  have  done 
what  we  did  if  it  hadn't  been  so.  Any  man 
who  misbehaved  was  punished." 

"Did  you  sail  under  the  black  flag.' » 

"Oh,  no!  We  hoisted  the  flag  of  Cartha- 
genia." 

Both  Lafltte  and  Campbell  were  particular 
to  observe  the  forms  of  legitimate  warfare. 
They  hoisted  on  their  vessels  the  flag  of  a 
struggling  republic,  and  the  letters  of  marque 
under  which  they  plundered  right  and  left, 


and  the  fore  mast  had  the  square  sails  of  the 
brig.  This  gave  speed  and  it  also  permitted 
of  the  peculiar  armament.  The  big  gun  was 
mounted  in  front  of  the  mast  and  it  could  be 
wheeled  to  point  in  almost  any  direction  ex- 
cept in  the  rear. 

The  old  man's  eyes  twinkled  as  he  told  of 
some  of  the  feats  of  the  clipper  from  Balti- 
more. "Campbell's  ship,"  said  he,  "could 
sail  fourteen  miles  an  hour  on  a  close  haul. 
There  wasn't  anything  that  could  get  away 
from  her.  Once  we  took  after  the  mail  boat 
between  Tampico  and  New  Orleans.  We  over- 
took her  in  about  two  hours  and  spoke  her. 
As  soon  as  Capt.  Campbell  learned  that  she 
was  an  American  vessel  he  let  her  go." 


A  MOSQUITO  CHASE. 


were  more  or  less  regular.  Lafltte  was  a  black- 
smith to  begin  with  in  New  Orleans.  He 
adopted  smuggling,  which  was  very  popular 
on  the  Louisiana  coast,  and  when  afterwards 
he  set  up  his  establishment  on  Galveston 
Island,  he  had  a  fleet  and  a  thousand  fol- 
lowers. 


John  Quincy  Adams  in  his  diary  tells  of  a 
visit  he  made  to  Baltimore.  Upon  investiga- 
tion he  discovered  that  the  merchants  of  that 
city  were  engaged  quite  generally  in  fitting 
out  vessels  to  engage  in  privateering  on  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico.  He  says  it  inspired  a  peculiar 
feeling  to  find  that  his  entertainers  were  in 
this  strange  business.  Mr.  Cronea  says  that 
the  vessel  on  which  he  served  under  Capt. 
Campbell  was  from  Baltimore.  The  craft  was 
known  as  an  hermaphrodite  brig.  She  had 
two  masts.  The  rear  mast  was  sloop-rigged 


Campbell,  like  his  chief,  Lafitte,  would 
never  interfere  with  an  American  ship.  That 
was  the  unwritten  law  of  the  pirates  of  the 
gulf.  Lafltte  always  considered  himself  an 
American.  In  the  State  Capitol  at  Baton 
Rouge  hangs  a  large  oil  painting  cominemora- 
iiva  of  the  battle  of  New  Orlean*  TT>  tbe  very 
thickest  of  the  fight,  directing  the  work  of  a 
battery,  is  a  gigantic  figure  which  is  pointed 
out  to  the  visitor  as  that  of  Lafitte,  the 
pirate.  It  is  history  that  Lafitte  fought  most 
bravely  under  Gen.  Jackson  in  that  decisive 
battle  of  the  War  of  1812,  and  that  a  pardon 
was  issued  to  him  for  it.  Before  that  a 
price  had  been  set  upon  Lafitte 's  head, 
and  his  brother  had  been  thrown  into 
prison  by  the  American  Governor  of  Louisi- 
ana. The  commander  of  the  British  forces 
approaching  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi 
sent  to  the  chief  of  the  smugglers,  then  hay- 


-50- 


ing  his  headquarters  at  Barataria,  an  offer  of 
$30,000  to  join  him.  He  added  this  message : 

"  I  call  upon  you,  with  your  brave  fol- 
lowers, to  enter  the  service  of  Great  Britain, 
in  which  you  shall  have  the  rank  of  captain. 
Lands  will  be  given  you  all,  in  proportion  to 
your  respective  ranks,  on  peace  taking  place, 
and  I  invite  you  upon  these  terms.  Your 
ships  to  be  placed  under  the  commanding 
officer  of  this  station,  but  I  guarantee  their 
lull  value  at  all  events." 

Lafltte,  keeping  up  the  form  of  negotiations, 
wrote  a  member  of  the  Louisiana  Legislature: 
' '  Though  proscribed  by  my  adopted  country 
I  will  never  let  slip  any  occasion  of  serving 
her.  Of  this  you  will  see  convincing  proof." 

To  the  Governor  who  had  put  a  price  on  his 
head  the  pirate  sent  this  message : 

' '  I  am  a  stray  sheep,  wishing  to  return  to  the 
sheep  fold.  If  you  were  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  nature  of  my  offenses,  I  should  appear 
to  you  much  less  guilty  and  still  worthy  to 
discharge  the  duties  of  a  good  citizen.  I  have 


ment  sent  a  message  to  the  pirate  that  he  must 
move  from  Barataria  or  behave.  On  that 
warning  Lafitte  with  his  followers  broke  up 
the  old  headquarters,  sailed  down  the  Texas 
coast,  and  settled  on  the  island  which  is  now 
the  site  of  Galveston.  There  the  leader  ruled 
a  colony  of  buccaneers  and  there  Campbell 
joined  him. 

Lafitte  lived  in  a  red  house  which  he  built 
near  what  is  now  the  foot  of  Fifteenth  street, 
in  Galveston.  He  threw  up  breastworks 
around  the  house  and  mounted  some  cannon. 
The  colony  grew  until  a  thousand  men  made 
their  homes  on  the  island  and  acknowledged 
allegiance  to  no  living  person  save  Lafitte. 
The  ships  of  these  buccaneers  preyed  on  the 
Spanish  commerce  of  the  whole  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ico. Mr.  Adams  need  have  had  no  such 
squeamishness  over  the  fact  that  his  Balti- 
more hosts  were  the  silent  partners  of  Lafitte. 
The  goods  which  the  buccaneers  captured  and 
smuggled  into  the  United  States  were- handled 
by  many  Boston  merchants  who  were  not 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  IN  BOLIVAR. 


never  sailed  under  any  flag  but  the  Republic 
of  Carthagena,  and  my  vessels  are  perfectly 
regular  in  that  respect.  If  I  could  have 
orought  my  prizes  into  the  ports  of  this  State  I 
should  not  have  employed  the  illicit  means 
that  have  caused  me  to  be  proscribed.  I  decline 
saying  more  on  the  subject  until  I  have  the 
honor  of  your  Excellency's  answer.  Should 
you  not  answer  favorably  to  my  ardent  de- 
sires I  declare  that  I  will  instantly  leave  the 
country  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  having  co- 
operated toward  an  invasion  which  can  not 
fail  to  take  place,  and  rest  secure  in  the  ac- 
quittal of  my  conscience." 

That  is  good  language  for  a  pirate.  A  com- 
mittee of  safety  ignored  the  proceedings  of  the 
Governor  against  Lafltte,  and  assured  him 
immunity  for  his  past.  Gen.  Jackson  gave 
the  Baratarian  leader  a  post  of  great  danger. 
To  the  work  which  the  pirate  band  did  with 
their  guns  history  attributes  much  of  the  cred- 
it for  that  victory  on  the  8th  of  January.  The 
promise  of  immunity  was  kept.  Lafltte's  past 
and  that  of  his  followers  was  condoned.  But 
not  long  afterwards  the  United  States  Govern- 


above  being  "fences"  for  pirates.  Lafitte 
had  his  agents  in  New  Orleans;  they  went  on 
'  Change  daily,  and  orders  were  given  them 
openly  for  the  goods  which  they  had  to  dis- 
pose of.  Boston,  Baltimore  and  other  com- 
mercial centers  were  ready  "partakers." 


When  the  freebooters'  camp  on  Galveston 
Island  was  at  the  height  of  its  glory  Lafitte 
was  a  man  of  about  40.  He  was  over  6  feet  in 
height,  strongly  built,  handsome  of  features, 
hazel  eyes  and  black  hair.  In  manner  he  was 
very  polite.  It  was  a  motley  gathering  of 
outlaws,  but  Lafitte  ruled  them  in  the  same 
free  and  easy  way  that  Robin  Hood  did  his 
merry  men.  There  was  always  a  square  di- 
vide of  the  prize  money,  and  contentment 
reigned  on  the  island.  Several  miles  down 
the  island,  below  the  suburbs  of  Galveston,  is 
a  grove  of  live  oaks  visible  a  long  way  out  on 
the  water.  This  is  known  as  Lafltte's  Grove. 
Tradition  has  it  that  the  pirates  often  as- 
sembled under  the  shade  to  divide  their 
booty. 


-51  - 


The  freebooters  were  not  without  a  form  of 
government  oa  the  island.  They  called  them- 
selves subjects  of  the  republic  under  the  flag 
of  which  they  sailed.  They  elected  one  free- 
booter "Judge  of  the  Admiralty,"  another 
"Administrator  of  the  Revenue,"  a  third 
"  Secretary  of  the  Public  Treasury,"  a  fourth 
"Marine  Commandant,"  and  so  on.  But  La- 
fltte  was  king  pirate,  and  his  word  was  law. 
The  man  who  held  the  high-sounding  office  of 
"Judge  of  the  Admiralty,"  had  occasion, 
years  afterward  to  make  a  statement  about 
this  colony.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  "the 
sole  view  and  object  of  the  persons  compris- 
ing the  colony  was  to  capture  Spanish  vessels 
and  property,  without  any  idea  of  aiding  the 
revolution  in  Mexico  or  that  of  any  other  of 


the  revolted  Spanish  colonies."  The  free- 
booters called  their  town  Campeachy.  The 
island  went  by  the  name  of  Snake  Island  be- 
cause of  the  number  of  serpents. 

When  the  light-house  rig  stopped  in  front 
of  the  Cronea  homestead  a  brilliantly  colored 
rattlesnake  lay  coiled  up  in  the  sand  beside 
the  wheel. 

To  show  how  perfect  was  Lafltte's  power 
over  his  followers  the  story  of  Capt.  Brown 
is  told.  Brown  came  to  the  island  and  sought 
permission  to  cruise  under  Lafltte's  auspices. 
Lafitto  suspected  Brown,  and  when  he  gave 
him  his  orders  told  him  that  if  he  molested 
the  commerce  of  the  United  States  he  would 


hang  him.  With  many  promises  Brown 
set  sail.  Several  days  afterward  Brown  and 
his  crew,  half  starved,  appeared  at  Bolivar 
Point  and  signaled  for  help.  They  were 
conveyed  to  the  freebooters'  camp  and  La- 
fltte  examined  the  men.  He  learned  from 
them  that  Brown  had  robbed  an  American 
vessel  near  Sabine  Pass.  A  revenue  schooner 
had  pursued.  Brown  had  beached  his  boat, 
and  had  walked  down  the  peninsula.  With- 
out any  delay  Lafitte  had  Brown  hung  in 
chains.  He  left  the  body  suspended  for  the 
buzzards  to  feed  upon.  The  revenue  schooner 
sailed  to  the  freebooters'  camp.  The  com- 
mander went  ashore  and  demanded  the  fu- 
gitives. Lafitte  at  once  surrendered  the 
crew,  and  pointing  toward  the  swinging  fig- 
ure in  iron  said:  "  You  will  find  the  captain 
over  there." 

Occasionally  Lafltte's  vessel  captured 
slavers.  Some  who  paid  allegiance  to  the  pi- 
rate king  were  in  the  slave  trade.  Upon  the 
arrival  of  a  cargo  of  human  chattels  at  Snake 
Island  a  curious  scene  was  witnessed.  Louis- 
iana planters  were  notified  and  came  to  the 
market.  The  negroes  were  sold  by  weight. 
The  ruling  rate  in  the  freebooters'  camp  was 
$1  a  pound.  The  planters  drove  the  negroes 
they  purchased  to  the  frontier  of  the  United 
States.  There  they  delivered  them  into  the 
hands  of  a  customs  officer,  becoming  inform- 
ers. Under  the  law  the  informer  was  entitled 
to  half  of  the  amount  realized  on  the  seized 
property.  The  negroes  were  sold  at  auction 
by  the  United  States  Marshal.  They  were  bid 
in  by  the  original  purchasers  and  informers, 
who  thus  obtained  a  clear  legal  title  and  the 
right  to  take  their  property  where  they 
pleased  as  the  reward  for  their  observance  of 
the  technicalities.  One  Louisiana  slave 
dealer  boasted  of  making  $65,000  in  a  short 
time  by  thus  smuggling  slaves  from  Lafitte 's 
camp  into  the  United  States. 


The  time  came  when  the  United  States  de- 
termined that  the  freebooters'  camp  must  go. 
An  American  vessel  was  plundered  and  scut- 
tled in  Matagorda  Bay.  In  spite  of  the  pirate 
king's  orders  his  followers  did  not  always  stop 
to  inquire  as  to  the  nationality  of  a  victim. 
Representatives  of  foreign  powers  com- 
plained at  Washington  about  the  ravages  of 
Lafitte' s  fleet.  A  United  States  brig  was  sent 
to  break  up  the  camp.  Lafitte  went  out  to 
meet  the  commanding  officer  and  escorted 
him  over  the  bar.  He  entertained  him  hand- 
somely at  "the  red  house."  The  naval 
officer  communicated  his  orders.  Lafitte  said 
he  would  obey.  In  the  presence  of  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  United  States  there 
was  a  grand  distribution  of  prize 
money.  The  organization  was  disbanded. 
The  torch  was  applied  to  the  building's  and 
the  fire  burned  until  the  camp  was  iu  ruins. 
Then  the  fleet  of  pirate  ships  was  brought 


together.  Lafltte's  favorite  ship— The 
Bride— was  put  in  readiness.  Those  freeboot- 
ers who  wished  went  with  Lafitte.  The  others 
scattered.  The  king  pirate  in  his  flagship, 
with  the  fleet  following,  sailed  away.  He 
never  returned  to  Texas.  He  settled  on  the 
coast  of  Yucatan,  where  he  was  given  a  con- 
cession of  land  for  his  "  services  on  behalf  of 
Mexican  independence,' '  and  ''where  he  lived 
in  peace  till  he  died."  In  his  old  age  he  re- 
formed. So  did  many  of  his  followers. 
Years  afterward,  when  Galveston  was  set- 
tled by  Americans  who  came  there  to 
lead  honest  lives,  there  was  a  character 
about  the  wharves  who  went  by  the  name  of 
Ben  Dolliver.  Ben  had  a  brother  named  Jim. 


MB.   CBONEA  AT    70. 


It  was  the  common  understanding  of  the  Gal- 
veston people  that  Ben  and  Jim  Dolliver  were 
sons  of  a  New  England  minister,  and  that  they 
had  been  pirates  uuder  Lafitte .  Ben  was  a  little 
bit  of  a  dried-up  fellow  with  a  cock  eye.  On  a 
certain  occasion  there  sailed  into  Galveston 
harbor  a  war  vessel  from  some  Central  Amer- 
ican nation.  The  captain's  name  was  Cox. 
He  wore  a  splendid  uniform,  had  an  elegant 
sword  and  looked  like  a  grandee.  Com- 
mander Cox  was  received  with  distinc- 
tion. One  day  he  was  on  Tremont 
street  conversing  with  some  of  the 
first  citizens  of  Galveston.  Ben  Dolliver 
came  rolling  by.  He  lurched  up  in  front  of 
the  big  commander  in  gold  lace  and.  sword, 
and  after  close  scrutiny  called  out  in  his 
squeaky  voice: 

"  I  know  you.    You're  a  d d  pirate. ' ' 

With  a  terrible  oath  the  commander  drew 
his  sword  and  ran  at  Ben.  The  little  fellow 
jumped  out  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  shoved 
his  hand  into  one  of  his  wide-topped  boots  he 
wore  and  pulled  a  murderous  looking  knife. 
It  was  the  big  commander's  turn  to  run,  and 
he  made  good  time  until  a  saloon  door  shel- 
tered him.  Ben  had  recognized  an  old  com- 
rade of  the  freebootlng  days. 

One  cf  old  man  Cronea's  most  thrilling 
stories  is  of  the  mutiny  which  occurred  on 


Campbell's  privateer.  Next  in  command  to 
Capt.  Campbell  was  Lieut.  Duvall.  This 
trouble  occurred  shortly  before  the  breaking 
up  of  the  crew. 

"  DuvalPs  idea,"  said  Mr.  Cronea,  "was  to 
put  to  death  the  captain  and  the  old  crew,  and 
take  possession  of  the  vessel  with  the  fifteen 
who  joined  the  force  when  I  did.  I  don't 
know  what  he  meant  to  do  after  that.  I  knew 
thero  was  going  to  be  a  mutiny,  but  I  didn't 
know  it  was  going  to  take  place  that  night. 
The  men  that  Duvall  got  to  go  into  the  mutiny 
were  French,  except  one  ;  he  was  the  Cata- 
lonian.  The  old  crew  were  all  Americans. 
Duvall  hauled  up  a  cask  of  brandy  and  gave 
it  to  the  men.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  he 
might  have  succeeded,  but  the  brandy  spoiled 
it  all.  The  men  Duvall  had  were  on  watch 
when  the  attack  was  made.  The  others 
and  the  captain  were  below.  Duvall 
and  his  men  could  have  called  up 
the  captain  and  killed  him  or  made 
him  a  prisoner.  Then  they  could  have 
got  the  arms  which  the  captain  always  kept 
in  the  cabin  and  could  have  killed  the  others 
as  fast  as  they  came  on  deck.  They  made  the 
attack  just  about  night.  I  was  looking  out  of 
the  cabin  and  saw  it  all.  Campbell  went  on 
deck  and  the  mutineers  surrounded  him.  But 
they  were  drunk  and  didn't  have  any  plan_ 
Some  wanted  to  kill  the  captain  right  there. 
Others  were  for  letting  him  go  or  making  him 
a  prisoner.  While  they  were  quarreling  about 
what  they  would  do  with  him  he  put  out  his 
arms,  just  so,  brushed  them  to  both  sides  of 
him,  made  one  jump  and  landed  in  the  cabin 
By  that  time  the  Americans,  who  were  not  in 
the  plot,  came  up  on  deck.  The  captain 
handed  out  the  arms  and  the  mutineers  didn't 
last  any  time.  The  whole  fourteen  of  them 
were  killed.  The  Catalonian  was  the  only 
one  who  made  a  good  fight.  He  had  a  knife  in 
each  hand.  He  jumped  in  between  two  of  the 


MOTIVE   POWER    ON    BOLIVAR   PENINSULA. 

Americans  and  struck  at  both  of 
them  at  the  same  time,  killing 
them.  Those  were  the  only  Americans 
who  were  killed.  The  Catalonian  didn't 
get  a  chance  to  do  any  more.  His  head  was 
taken  off  with  a  cutlash.  Duvall  was  the  only 
one  of  the  mutineers  who  wasn't  killed.  They ' 
had  a  trial  on  board  and  condemned  him  to 
be  shot,  but  Campbell  interfered  and  saved 
his  life.  When  the  ship  was  off  Galveston 
Island  the  captain  put  Duvall  into  a  boat  and 
sent  two  men  with  instructions  to  land  him 


-53- 


and  come  back.  There  was  a  ship  at  Galves- 
ton  and  we  couldn't  tell  what  she  was.  The 
captain  was  afraid  to  go  in.  While  the  two 
men  were  gone  with  Duvall  we  saw  a  large 
yawl  coming  out  toward  us.  The  captain  got 
the  crew  together  and  asked  them  what  they 
thought  had  better  be  done.  They  agreed 
that  it  was  dangerous  to  take  any  chances, 
for  we  were  very  short-handed.  Half  of  the 
crew  had  been  killed  in  the  mutiny.  So  the 
captain  ordered  the  ship  under  way  and  we  left 
without  waiting  for  the  two  men  who  had 
gone  with  the  small  boat  to  land  Duvall.  We 
never  heard  of  them  again. ' ' 


was  in  that  desperate  business,"  Mr.  Cronea 
said.  "  The  morning  after  the  mutiny  the 
Americans  wanted  to  kill  me.  They  said  I 
was  one  of  the  party  of  Frenchmen  and  must 
have  known  of  the  plotting.  They  got  around 
me  and  raised  the  cutlashes  over  me  and  were 
going  to  cut  my  head  off,  when  Capt.  Camp- 
bell interfered.  He  told  them  I  was  in  the 
cabin  and  didn't  know  anything  about  it. 
Then  they  let  me  off . '  * 

Campbell  was  Lafltte's  right-hand  man.  He 
came  from  Maryland.  His  parents  lived  on 
Chesapeake  Bay,  near  Baltimore,  and  he  was 
brought  up  as  a  sailmaker.  In  1812  the  young 


FOUR   GENERATIONS   ON  ONE   PORCH. 


"I  don't  think  Campbell  made  a  great  deal 
out  of  the  business,"  said  Mr.  Cronea,  in  re- 
ply to  a  question.  "  I  remember  once  that  he 
loaded  up  a  vessel  with  goods  that  had  been 
taken,  put  some  of  the  men  aboard  and 
started  it  off  somewhere.  They  didn't  tell  me 
where  it  was  to  go.  But  no  word  ever  came 
back  from  it  that  I  heard.  After  he  quit  he 
lived  very  quietly." 

Mr.  Cronea  describes  Campbell  as  a  man  of 
6  feet,  well  built,  with  dark  mustache  and  a 
Celtic  face.  "He  was  a  very  brave  man,  and 
he  didn't  like  to  see  life  taken,  although  he 


sailmaker  joined  the  United  States  navy.  In 
the  battle  of  Lake  Erie  Campbell  was  on  the 
Lawrence  with  Perry.  When  the  Commodore 
was  forced  to  leave  the  Lawrence  and  take  his 
flag  to  the  Niagara,  Campbell  was  one  of  the 
crew  that  rowed  the  boat  in  which  Perry 
stood  holding  the  flag  half  a  mile  under  heavy 
fire.  After  the  war  Campbell  went  back  to 
Baltimore,  but  only  to  start  out  on  a  roving 
expedition  which  took  him  to  New  Orleans. 
There,  with  his  knowledge  of  sea  life,  he  soon 
got  into  the  smuggling  business.  There  was 
nothing  strange  about  that.  Half  of  the  mer- 


-54- 


chants  in  New  Orleans  were  taking  goods 
from  smugglers  regularly.  When  Gov.  Clai- 
borne,  of  Louisiana,  attempted  to  create  pub- 
lic sentiment  against  this  kind  of  vocation,  lie 
had  a  queer  experience.  Writing  of  it 
on  one  occasion  to  the  Attorney  Gen- 
eral of  the  United  States,  the  Gover- 
nor said:  "In  conversation  with  ladies 
I  have  denounced  smuggling  as  dishonest,  and 
the  reply  was:  'That  is  impossible,  for  my 
grandfather,  or  my  father,  or  my  husband  was 
under  the  Spanish  Government  a  smuggler, 
and  I  am  sure  he  was  an  honest  man.'  ' ' 

After  Mexican  independence  was  acknowl- 
edged, Campbell  determined  to  give  up 
privateering,  Mr.  Cronea  says.  There  was,  in 


admit  he  had  ever  seen  me  before.  He 
wouldn't  talk  about  what  he  had  done.  He 
wouldn't  admit  he  had  been  on  a  privateer." 


His  service  as  cabin  boy  on  the  pirate  ship 
was  not  the  only  exciting  chapter  in  the  old 
man's  history.  Charles  Cronea  was  in  the 
war  of  Texan  independence  from  beginning 
to  end.  He  is  the  only  survivor  of  the  bold 
buccaneers  of  the  Gulf,  and  he  is  one  of  the 
few  still  living  who  "remembered  Fannin's 
men  and  the  Alamo ' '  at  Sau  Jacinto.  Santa 
Anna  had  wiped  out  the  defenders  of  the 
Alamo  at  San  Antonio  to  a  man.  He  was 
crowding  Sam  Houston  and  the  remnant  of 
the  Texan  army  eastward,  determined  not  to 


THE  VETERAN   AT  HOME. 


fact,  nothing  else  for  him  to  do.  The  letters 
of  marque  which  gave  his  commerce  destroy- 
ing a  show  of  legitimacy  were  revoked.  He 
sailed  to  a  point  near  the  coast  of  Louisiana 
where  there  was  a  famous  hackberry  tree. 
There  he  burned  the  ship  and  disbanded  the 
crew. 

"A  good  ship  like  that  couldn't  be  bought 
for  $10,000,"  said  Mr.  Cronea.  "It  was  h— 
to  burn  her.  What  else  could  he  do?  He 
couldn't  go  anywhere  else.  Peace  had  been 
declared." 

"On  the  ship,"  continued  Mr.  Cronea,  "the 
captain  always  went  by  the  name  of  Carroll- 
Charles  Carroll.  He  never  used  the  name  of 
Campbell.  But  after  he  burned  the  ship  and 
settled  on  shore  he  took  his  right  name.  From 
the  day  we  separated  at  the  hackberry  tree  I 
have  never  seen  any  of  the  crew.  Capt.  Camp- 
bell I  met  once,  years  afterward.  Campbell 
moved  from  place  to  place.  I  never  saw  him 
until  he  settled  at  Morse's  Bluff.  I  heard  he 
was  living  there,  and  went  over  to  see  him. 
He  treated  me  mighty  nicely,  but  he  wouldn't 


stop  until  he  had  driven  them  across  the  Sa- 
bine,  entirely  off  Texas  soil,  and  had  occu- 
pied Galveston. 

"There  were  only  800  of  us  left,"  Mr. 
Cronea  said.  "I  was  in  Capt.  David  Garner's 
company.  After  the  fall  of  the  Alamo  we  re- 
treated. Santa  Anna  was  moving  eastward. 
We  must  have  fallen  back  more  than  200 
miles.  The  Mexicans  had  over  2000  men 
They  were  two  to  one  of  us,  and  they  had  t-au- 
non.  I  don't  believe  Houston  would  have 
fought,  only  somo  <>f  tho  boys  got  tired  of  re- 
treating and  went  to  him.  They  said  if  there 
wasn't  going  to  be  any  flg'litin'  they  would 
quit  and  go  home. 

"  'Boys, '  said  Houston,  'if  fighlin'  is  what 
you*want,  you  shall  have  plenty  of  it.  Get 
your  dinners. ' 

"  That  was  the  way  the  battle  of  San  Jacinto 
came  about.  We  had  two  companies  that  had 
muskots  and  bagnets.  The  balance  of  us 
had  old  Kentucky  flint  rifles.  It  took  about 
ten  minutes  to  load  'em.  But  wo  made  every 
shot  count.  We  waited  till  2:30  o'clock. 


-55- 


The  d— d  Mexicans  always  sleep  after  dinner, 

you  know.    And     by we    were    on  them 

before  they  knew  it.  They  never  got  a  chance 
to  fire  their  cannon  but  once.  We  dropped 
when  we  saw  the  smoke  of  their  guns  and 
then  jumped  up  and  went  on.  They  were  on 
one  hill  and  we  were  on  another.  From  the 
time  we  broke  camp  we  never  stopped 
till  we  were  right  among  them.  I  bet  you  we 
made  a  lot  of  them  drop  the  first  time  we  fired. 
When  we  got  into  close  quarters  every  man 
drew  his  bowie-knife.  Just  before  we  started 
Houston  gave  us  the  word.  '  Remember  Fan- 
nin's  men  and  the  Alamo,'  he  said.  Then 
when  he  saw  the  slaughter  he  rode  in  among 
us  and  cried  out,  'Have  mercy,  men!  For 
God's  sake  have  mercy!'  But  he  couldn't 
stop  us.  ,  Nothing  could  stop  us. 
The  Mexicans  threw  away  their  guns 
and  stopped  fighting.  One  would  drop  on  his 
knees  and  hold  up  his  hands  and  say,  'Me  no 
Alamo!  Me  no  Alamo!'  Off  went  his  d— d 
head!  They  thought  we  were  killing  them 
because  they  had  killed  our  men  at  the  Alamo 
and  they  wanted  to  say  they  were  not  there." 
'  'Were  the  Mexicans  well  armed?" 


fighting  done  in  the  War  of  Texas  Independ- 
ence was  almost  without  parallel  in  losses.  At 
the  battle  of  the  Mission,  south  of  San  Antonio, 
the  Mexicans  had  forty  killed  and  sixty 
wounded,  while  the  Texas  loss  was  one  killed 
and  one  wounded.  A  few  days  later,  in  the 
Battle  of  the  Grass,  the  Mexican  loss  was  fifty 
and  the  Texan  loss  was  one.  A  little  later,  at 
the  Alamo,  of  170  Texans  not  one  escaped 
Mexican  vengeance.  And  then  came  San 
Jacinto,  wiping  out  an  army.  Santa  Anna, 
by  all  the  rules  of  Texan  warfare,  should  have 
perished  at  San  Jacinto,  Mr.  Cronea  thinks. 

"One  of  the  men  in  my  company,  Solomon 
Cole,  captured  Santa  Anna,"  said  the  old 
veteran.  "He  found  him  hiding  in  the  grass, 
took  him  back  to  San  Jacinto  and  delivered 
him  to  Houston.  If  it  hadn't  been  that  Santa 
Anna  was  a  Mason  his  hide  wouldn't  have 
held  shucks.  He  ought  to  have  been  shot- 
But  Santa  Anna  and  Sam  Houston  were  both 
high  Masons,  and  Houston  and  the  other  Ma- 
sons got  him  off  in  disguise.  Seven  of  our 
men  followed  him  as  far  as  Calcasieu,  in  Lou- 
isiana. If  they  had  overtaken  him  he  wouldn't 
have  got  back  to  Mexico.' ' 


ROLL     OVER. 


"Their  guns  were  'scopets,'  big-mouthed 
things,  of  no  account.  But  they  had  bagnets 
and  swords,  and  they  ought  to  have  cut  us 
down  when  we  got  close,  but  they  didn't.  By 

,' '  the  old  man  exclaimed,  "  they  justbroke 

like  turkeys,  and  we  cut  'em  down  right  and 
left  with  our  knives.  We  were  right  among 
them,  and  every  one  of  us  was  killing." 

"How  many  Mexicans  were  killed,  Mr.  Cro- 
nea?" 

"Between  1600  and  1700.  We  took  only 
300  prisoners,  and  there  was  nothing  left  of 
Santa  Anna's  army." 

"How  many  Texans  were  killed?" 

'  'We  lost  just  twelve  men.  There  is  a  monu- 
ment to  them  on  the  San  Jacinto  battle-field 
a  few  miles  above  Houston." 

The  skeptical  may  think  the  old  man  draws 
the  long  bow  a  little  on  his  figures  of  losses. 
History,  well  authenticated,  shows  that  the 


"We  had  two  scouts,"  the  old  man  con- 
tinued, "who  kept  right  along  close  to  the 
Mexicans  all  of  the  time  during  that  retreat, 
and  we  always  knew  just  where  Santa  Anna's 
army  was  and  what  it  was  doing.  They  were 
mighty  brave  men.  One  of  'em  was  Bob  Dun- 
ham. I'll  tell  you  what  Bob  done.  Eight  this 
side  of  Buffalo  Bayou  he  was  all  alone  when 
he  came  on  fifteen  Mexican  soldiers.  He  made 
a  motion  with  his  gun  and  looked  back  as  if 

he  was  giving  some  order.  By the  whole 

fifteen  threw  down  their  muskets  with  the 
bagnets  sticking  in  the  ground  and  surren- 
dered. He  formed  'em  in  line  and  marched 
'em  into  camp.  Bob  was  one  of  the  old  cow- 
boys. The  devil  couldn't  scare  him." 

During  the  battle  of  San  Jacinto  one  body 
of  fugitives  took  to  the  river.  They  mired  in 
the  muddy  bottom.  The  Texans,  coming  to 
the  bank  in  pursuit,  stood  there  picking  off 


-56- 


the  Mexicans  In  the  mud  and  water.  It  was 
butchery.  The  commander  of  the  Texans 
gave  the  order  again  and  again  to  stop  shoot- 
ing, but  the  men  kept  on.  The  thirst  for 
blood  could  not  be  satisfied,  it  seemed.  That 
cry,  "Remember  the  Alamo!"  kept  ringing 
out.  At  last  the  commander  of  the  Texans 
seized  a  gun  from  one  of  his  men  and  leveled 
it.  He  swore  he  would  shoot  the  next  man 
who  fired  upon  the  pleading  prisoners,  and 
then  the  slaughter  ceased. 

The  battle  of  San  Jacinto  didn't  last  an 
hour,  Mr.  Cronea  says.  As  one  of  the  inci- 
dents he  mentions  that  thirty- two  Mexicans 
were  killed  at  the  breech  of  a  cannon  they  at- 
tempted to  defend.  So  rapid  was  the  advance 
the  cannon  was  fired  only  once.  San  Jacinto 
established  Texan  independence.  Mexico  did 
not  formally  acknowledge  this  condition,  but 
after  the  loss  of  Santa  Anna's  army  she  let 
this  great  State  go  as  if  by  default,  and  the 
United  States  annexed  it. 

"  We  could  never  have  succeeded  in  the 
end,"  said  Mr.  Cronea,  "if  the  United  States 
had  not  come  forward  and  taken  up  our  fight. 
There  were  only  800  of  us  under  Houston.  We 
wiped  out  Santa  Anna's  army,  it  is  true,  but 
do  you  suppose  a  country  as  large  as  Mexico 
would  have  allowed  800  men  to  take  away 
such  a  piece  of  territory  as  Texas?  It  isn't 
reasonable.  We  would  have  been  crushed 
sooner  or  later  if  Texas  had  not  been  taken 
into  the  United  States.' » 

There  was  trouble  from  the  earliest  times 
between  the  Americans  who  had  settled  in 
Texas  and  the  Mexican  local  authorities.  But 
the  open  hostilities  which  led  to  the  series  of 
battles  ending  with  San  Jacinto,  Mr.  Cronea 
says,  started  in  1832  with  the  release  of  three 
Americans.  These  Americans  were  Monroe 
Edwards,  Patrick  Jack  and  Travers.  They 
had  been  locked  up  by  the  Mexicans  at  the 
old  fort  of  Anahuac.  A  company  of  Ameri- 
cans, of  whom  Mr.  Cronea  was  one,  was 
formed  to  release  the  three  men  and  did  it. 
After  that  came  the  battles.  One  of  the  last 
incidents  of  the  Texan  war  took  place  at  the 
home  of  those  three  men.  Following  San 
Jacinto  a  party  stopped  for  the  night  with 
Monroe  Edward's  family.  There  was  a 
young  lady  in  the  family.  Her  name 
was  Susannah.  Now,  Susannah  had  a 
well-trained  parrot.  This  bird  had  the  free- 
dom of  the  house  during  the  day,  but  at 
night  was  retired  to  a  cage  by  his  young  mis- 
tress. On  the  evening  of  the  arrival  of  the 
visitors  there  was  a  good  deal  of  confusion. 
Everybody  was  talking  of  the  great  battle. 
Miss  Susannah  forgot  her  charge,  and  the  par- 
rot remained  out  long  after  the  usual  retiring 
hour.  At  length  his  green-feathered  Majes- 
ty's patience  became  exhausted.  He  sud- 
denly called  out  "S'sannah."  One  of  the 
guests  sprang  to  his  feet  and  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound.  Then,  seeing  the 


parrot,  he  sat  down  and  tried  to  laugh  it  off. 
The  action  created  some  curiosity  at  the 
time.  But  it  was  not  till  long  afterward  that 
the  Edwards  family  learned  that  they  had  en- 
tertained Santa  Anna  in  his  disguise  and  on 
his  way  out  of  Texas  under  friendly  escort  of 
the  Masons,  in  whose  care  Houston  had 
placed  the  prisoner.  Santa  Anna  had  mis- 
taken the  parrot's  call  for  his  own  name. 


"  Mr.  Cronea,  how  do  you  account  for  your 
long  life  and  good  health  ?' '  the  old  man  was 
asked  as  he  concluded  his  story  of  the  battle. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  replied  with  a 
hearty  laugh. 

"I'll  tell  you,  sir,"  said  a  jolly,  plump 
woman  with  a  rich  olive  complexion,  not  a 
wrinkle  in  it,  and  with  snapping  black  eyes. 
She  came  forward  from  the  domestic  regions, 
where  she  had  overheard  the  question.  "I'll 
tell  you, ' '  she  said.  "It's  living  in  the  country 
on  good  healthy  food— corn  bread,  beef  and 
potatoes.  That  has  given  father  long  life  and 
good  health." 

"I  expect  that's  it,"  the  old  man  added 
with  a  nod.  "  That  is  what  I  raised  my  family 
on.  Many  of  my  children  never  saw  wheat 
flour  until  after  they  were  grown." 

"  I  think  the  rich  food  city  people  eat 
— the  preserves  and  such  things — has 
a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  sick- 
ness and  short  lives,"  said  the  jolly  lady. 
"  I  am  56  years  old.  Yes,  sir;  I  own  up  to  it. 
I  was  born  the  next  year  after  the  war  of 
Texan  independence.  That  makes  me  56, 
and  I  can  tell  you  I  was  26  years  old  before  I 
ever  had  a  headache.  Perhaps  I  wouldn't  be 
so  free  to  tell  my  age  if  I  hadn't  so  many 
grandchildren. 

The  lady  laughed  until  she  shook,  while  the 
old  gentleman,  taking  up  the  theme,  said: 
' '  I  was  married  to  her  mother  after  I  quit  the 
Texas  army.  I  have  now  ninety  living  chil- 
dren, grandchildren  and  great-grandchildren. 
I  did  have  ninety-two,  but  two  have  died. 
Seven  of  them  are  my  children.  The  others 
are  grandchildren  and  great-grandchildren. 
I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  many  are  grand- 
children and  how  many  are  great-grand- 
children. That  would  be  too  much  trouble, 
but  there  are  ninety  of  them  altogether." 

The  old  man  chuckled,  while  the  daughter 
remarked:  "That's  all  father  does.  He  just 
sits  on  the  porch  and  laughs." 

"I'm  as  contented  as  if  I  was  worth  a  mill- 
ion," the  old  man  added.  And  then  he  said, 
"but  I  wish  my  pension  was  a  little  larger. 
The  State  allows  me  a  pension  for  my  part  in 
the  war  of  Texan  independence.  The  amount 
is  $12.50  a  month.  I  have  been  told  I  was 
entitled  to  a  land  warrant,  but  I  never  got 
it." 

"  You  must  have  begun  voting  pretty  early, 
Mr.  Cronea?" 

"  I  cast  my  first  vote  for  Andrew  Jackson, 
the  second  time  he  ran.  It  was  in  1824, 


-67- 


wasn't  it.  Seems  as  if  that  was  the  year.  I 
was  living  in  Plaquemine  at  the  time.  They 
had  a  law  that  allowed  only  tax-payers  to 
vote.  When  I  went  up,  the  judge  of  the  elec- 
tion asked  me 'if  I  was  a  tax-payer.  I  threw 
down  a  piece  of  money  and  said,  '  Here  is 
two-bits.  Now  I'm  a  tax-payer.'  The  judge 
raised  some  question.  I  knew  him  and  knew 
that  all  of  his  property  was  in  his  wife's  name. 
So  I  said  to  him,  'Judge,  do  you  pay  any 
taxes?"  With  that  he  said,  'Oh,  come  on; 
give  us  your  vote.'  ' ' 

The  conversation  turned  again  upon  the 
ninety  descendants.  Mr.  Cronea  affirmed, 
with  considerable  pride,  that  all  of  them  were 
born  in  three  counties  in  Texas,  and  also  that 
all  of  them  are  now  living  within  the  State  for 
which  he  fought  so  valiantly.  At  a  sugges- 
tion, four  generations  of  the  Cronea  family 
were  assembled  upon  the  porch.  The  old  gen- 
tleman, aged  87,  sat  at  the  head  of  the  line. 
Next  to  him  was  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Matilda 
Stough,  aged  56.  Mrs.  Stough's  daughter, 
Mrs.  Artemis  Wilrycx,  aged  34,  sat  beside  her 
mother.  Mrs.  Wilrycx  was  a  widow  until  a 
week  ago.  She  came  over  from  a  neighboring 
house  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a  new  husband, 
and  the  pleasantries  of  her  relatives  prompted 
her  to  assume  a  rather  abashed  demeanor.  The 
son  of  Mrs.  Wilrycx,  Emile  Andres,  aged  10, 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  porch  near  his  great 
grandfather.  As  Mr.  Cronea  viewed  the  as- 
sembling of  his  clan,  he  remarked  with  a 
smile  that  it  wasn't  his  fault  there  were  not 
five  generations  instead  of  four  lined  up  on 
the  porch.  He  said  he  had  three  or  four  great- 
granddaughters  who  were  old  enough  to  be 
wives  and  mothers.  While  the  four  genera- 
tions faced  the  artist,  other  members  of  the 
family  stood  about  and  offered  more  or  less 
hilarious  suggestions.  Good  humor  is  one  of 
the  strong  traits  of  the  Cronea  descendants. 
They  are  all  healthy,  happy  and  handsome. 
Texas  has  no  better  people  than  the  cabin-boy 
pirate  and  his  ninety  descendants. 


Bolivar  Peninsula  is  a  queer  place.  This 
long,  low-lying  strip  of  land  between  Gulf 
and  Bay  possesses  two  physical  phenomena 
which  have  puzzled  scientific  gentlemen.  One 
of  these  is  known  as  "the  High  Islands."  The 
peninsula  is  quite  level,  being  in  the  center 
only  a  little  higher  than  along  the  beaches. 
Well  toward  the  upper  end  of  the  peninsula 
the  traveler  comes  to  a  collection  of  knolls, 
which  rise  sharply  from  the  general  level. 
These  knolls  can  be  seen  from  a  great  dis- 
tance. In  comparison  with  the  almost  dead 
level  of  sand  and  water  on  all  sides  of  them 
they  loom  up  like  mountains.  In  reality  the 
elevation  is  only  35  feet.  Nothing  like  the  soil 
of  which  the  High  Islands  are  composed  can 
be  found  for  many  miles.  This  soil  is  a  clay. 
On  top  of  the  knolls  is  a  table-land 
several  miles  in  extent.  People  have 


farms  and  live  on  the  High  Islands.  Springs 
gush  from  the  summits.  Some  of  the  springs 
are  fresh  water  and  some  are  salt.  In  one 
place  a  fresh  spring  and  a  salt  spring  come 
from  the  ground  less  than  2  feet  apart.  By 
digging  down  into  the  clay  well  water  can  be 
had.  There  are  various  theories  as  to  how 
these  High  Islands  came  to  be  located  away 
out  on  the  flats  of  the  Texas  coast.  From  all 
of  the  conditions  it  would  appear  that  a  great 
section  of  a  bluff  country  must  have  been  cut 
off  somewhere  and  carried  down  hundreds  of 
miles  and  deposited  on  the  Gulf  front.  A 
great  glacier  may  be  responsible  for  the 
strange  freak. 

Off  Bolivar  lie  "the  Oil  Ponds."  They  are 
places  in  the  Gulf  where  the  breakers  cease 
and  the  surf  is  at  rest.  In  the  very  roughest 
weather  there  is  some  movement,  but  ordi- 
narily the  ponds  are  still,  while  all  around 
them  the  ocean  rolls.  The  natives  of  Bolivar 
say  "  the  Oil  Ponds"  are  what  the  name  im- 
plies—collections  of  oil  upon  the  surface  of 
the  water.  But  they  do  not  call  it  oil.  They 
call  it  sea  wax.  Within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  inhabitants  of  the  peninsula  the  oil 
ponds  have  doubled  in  size.  They  seem  to  be 
growing.  They  cover  many  acres  of  water. 
Altogether  they  are  fifteen  miles  long  and  two 
miles  wide.  The  source  of  this  collection  of 
oil  on  the  surface  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  off 
Bolivar,  is  as  .mysterious  as  the  origin  of  the 
High  Islands.  W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


The  Story  of  What  One  Potato  Did  for 
Colorado  City. 


A  Tomato  and  a  Town  Site— Midland's  In- 
spiration—Rise and  Fall  of  the  Bar- 
ons—Every Man  His  Own  Ir- 
rigutor— Abilene's  Ver- 
satile Decade. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

ABILENE,  TEX.,  August  29.— "Abilene!  " 
Not  a  Winchester  pops.  Not  a  cowboy 
whoops.  Queer  ups  and  downs  and  ups  again 
this  Western  Texas  country  has  seen  since 
1882,  just  ten  years  ago.  There  are  men  in 
St.  Louis  and  forty-nine  other  cities  outside 
of  Texas,  who  can  shiver  a  little  in 
August  over  investment  memories  of  Abi- 
lene, of  Sweetwater,  of  Colorado  City, 
of  Midland.  What  booms  those  were!  The 
Texas  and  Pacific  Railway  had  just 
gone  through.  The  Comanche  had  just 
made  room  for  the  cowman.  The  man 
with  a  branding  iron  was  bigger  than  the  man 


-58- 


with  a  bank.  From  the  Brazos  to  the  Colo- 
rado River  was  the  prettiest  country  the  ten- 
derfoot ever  saw. 

Baird  had  been  the  town.  When  the  rail- 
road reached  Baird  it  struck  the  great  cattle 
trail  leading  from  the  Southern  Texas  ranges 
to  Kansas  and  the  North.  The  ranches  for 
250  miles  did  their  trading  at  Baird.  Bat  the 
railroad  came  and  the  glory  of  Baird  as  the 
outfitting  point  departed  westward.  Abilene 
first,  Sweetwater  next,  and  then  Colorado 
City  bid  and  bid  high  for  the  favor  of  the  cat- 
tle trade.  Colorado  City  won,  for  she  was  the 


a  brick  thrown  at  random  would  hit  at  least 
one  rich  man,  and  in  all  probability  carrom  on 
another.  In  ten  years  a  solid  brick  city,  with 
5000  inhabitants,  was  built  on  the  high  banks 
of  the  river.  A  $50,000  Court  House  wasn't 
good  enough.  Besides,  it  obstructed  the  view 
in  th«  principal  street.  A  new  Court  House 
was  built,  and  the  old  one,  constructed  only 
two  years  before,  was  torn  down.  Corner 
lots  in  Colorado  were  held  at  $10,000,  and 
some  of  them  sold  at  that.  Money  was  plen- 
tiful. Everybody  had  it  or  could  borrow.  A 
third  party  orator  would  have  been  satisfied 


AN    IRRIGATION    PLANT    AT    MIDLAND. 


gateway  to  the  great  pastureland  of  Texas, 
stretching  170  miles  westward,  from  the  Colo- 
rado River  to  the  Pecos,  and  northward  over 
the  Staked  Plains  as  far  as  the  herds  chose  to 
r  oam. 

Those  were  great  days  for  cattlemen  from 
1881  almost  to  1885.  Never  before  had  the 
steer  been  so  profitable.  Had  the  great  seal 
of  Texas  been  designed  anew  at  that  time  it 
would  have  shown  a  long-horn  rampant  on 
the  obverse  and  a  long-horn  couchant  on  the 
reverse.  Prices  of  cattle  went  out  of  sight, 
and  yet  everybody  wanted  to  bay.  Lords  and 
Earls  came  to  Texas  and  exchanged  good  En- 
glish gold  for  the  title  of  cattle  baron  with 
all  the  name  implied.  Merchants  and  capi- 
talists up  North  formed  companies  and  sent 
high-salaried  agents  to  take  charge  of  their 
four-looted  investments,  "  range  count." 
And  Colorado  was  the  center  and  beneficiary 
of  this  tremendous  activity  in  cows. 


In  1884  there  were  more  millionaires,  pres- 
ent and  prospective,  on  the  streets  of  Colorado 
than  in  all  the  rest  of  Texas.  It  was  said  that 


with  the  "per  capita. ' '  There  were  men  with 
brand-new  bank  accounts  who  took  it  a'  a 
favor  to  be  asked  to  indorse  a  note.  Thei  ^-is 
a  tradition  to-day  in  Colorado  about  an  old 
cattleman  who  spent  the  greater  part  of  two 
days  hunting  for  a  stranger  who  wanted  some 
paper  indorsed.  Pioneers  who  had  started  in 
business  a  few  years  previously  with  a  brand- 
ing iron  found  themselves  worth  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  dollars. 

.  In  those  flush  days  Colorado  looked  with 
scorn  upon  the  farmer.  In  1833  a  German 
colony,  under  the  leadership  of  a  thrifty 
priest,  settled  upon  a  tract  of  land  about 
eighty  miles  west  of  the  cattlemen's  capital. 
The  place  was  called  Marienfeld.  A  crop  of 
wheat  was  raised,  and  the  Germans  with 
honest  pride  sent  a  bushel  of  it  over  to  Colo- 
rado to  be  exhibited.  The  cattlemen  were 
shocked.  They  said  that  sort  of  thing  would 
ruin  the  country.  They  used  harsh  language 
about  the  grangers.  But  there  came  a  timo 
when  the  ranges  around  Colorado  were  over 
stocked.  Then  the  bottom  fell  out  of  the  cat- 
tle market.  Prices  went  down  and  down. 


59- 


In  1886  it  took  three  steers  to  bring  as  many 
dollars  as  one  had  been  worth  three  years  be- 
fore. Colorado  had  snubbed  the  farmer  and 
she  had  warned  the  sheep  herder.  She  had 
pinned  her  hope  of  prosperity  to  one  thing— 


ABILENE. 


the  cattle  trado.  Tlio  shrinkage  0:1  the  ?10,- 
000  corner  lots  was  something  f aarful  to  con- 
template. A  population  of  5000  dwindled  to 
2030.  Some  were  unfeeling  enough  to  say  that 
those  who  remained  did  so  because  they 
couldn't  get  away. 

In  this  most  trying  period  of  Colorado's  his- 
tory came  the  discovery  that  all  around  Colo- 
rado was  an  agricultural  country.  One  day 
somebody  found  an  Irish  potato  sprouting 
through  the  ground  just  in  front  of  the  prin- 
cipal bank  building.  Colorado  had  eaten 
Irish  potatoes  at  $2.50  a  bushel  and  had  never 
asked  whence  they  came.  This  particular  po- 
tato had  rolled  into  the  gutter  in  front  of  the 


ers  of  the  volunteer  experiment.  Some  of  the 
children  had  to  be  told  how  potatoes  repro- 
duce. They  had  never  seen  the  operation. 
The  whole  town  became  a  farmers'  club  for 
the  discussion  of  agricultural  topics.  Men 
who  had  loudest  proclaimed  the  glorious 
character  of  a  cowman's  life  and  who  had 
said  they  would  rather  commit  suicide  or 
sheer  sheep  than  handle  a  hoe,  began  to  make 
gardens.  One  man  scattered  something  less 
than  half  a  ton  of  seed  oats  on  unbroken  prai- 
rie, scratched  it  well  with  a  harrow  and 
produced  a  fair  crop. 

That  settled  it.  Colorado  proclaimed  far 
and  wide  that  here  was  the  place  to  farm. 
And  tli3  farraor,  ignoring  the  snub  of  five 
years  bsforo,  came,  saw  and  conquered.  The 
city  has  regained  the  population  which  went 
out  with  the  cattle  boom,  but  the  personality 
is  different.  Colorado  is  still  the  center  for 
tli a  Western  Texas  cattle  trade,  but  it  is  not 
that  to  the  exclusion  of  agriculture,  nor  does 
it  despise  the  shipment  of  400  car  loads  of  salt 
a  month. 

The  potato  which  grew  to  such  effect  in 
front  of  Colorado's  bank  has  its  companion 
piece.  An  humble  tomato  plant  developed 
in  1834  where  Midland  stands.  For  a  week  a 
party  of  excursionists,  150  strong,  had  been 
roaming  over  tho  State.  Place  after  place  had 
been  visited,  but  nothing  which  quite  filled 
the  measure  of  desire  was  found.  The  excur- 
sionists ware  from  Illinois  and  Iowa.  They 
had  money,  and  they  wanted  to  start  a  town, 


AT  MIDLAND — JACIC     KILSS;     TIME,     48     SECONDS. 


bank  and  had  taken  a  notion  to  grow.  Tho 
man  who  made  the  discovery  was  tho  hero  of 
the  hour.  After  that  everybody  in  town  soon 
knew  of  the  potato.  Day  by  day  for  three 
months  Colorado  watched  the  progress  of  the 
potato's  growth.  It  would  have  been  worth  a 
man's  life  to  have  disturbed  it.  Ex-millionaires 
were  the  most  vigilant  and  interested  observ- 


the  beginning  of  which  should  be  all  their 
own.  They  came  to  what  is  now  Midland, 
and  found  growing  there  this  tomato  plant. 
The  dimensions  seemed  rather  startling,  but 
it  is  asserted  that  the  vine  was  9  feet  high 
and  spread  out  7  feet  in  diameter. 
This  vine  was  loaded  with  tomatoes 
from  top  to  bottom.  It  settled  the  minds  of 


-60- 


the  excursionists,  who  said,  "Here  we  rest, 
build  a  town  and  sell  corner  lots  to  our 
friends."  Six  hours  after  the  excursionists 
set  eyes  on  the  tomato  plant  the  town  com- 
pany had  been  organized.  The  sale  of  lots 
followed.  Midland  has  1500  people  who  do  a 


and  discovered  after  all  that  her  territory 
was  n?Mch  better  suited  for  sheep  than  for 
steers.  The  flock-masters,  usually  the  most 
despised  of  men  in  a  cow  country,  were  re- 
ceived with  open  arms  by  Abilene.  They  and 
their  flocks  overran  the  Abilene  country, 


BRANDING    CATTLE. 


business  of  $1,500,000  a  year  with  the  ranch 
owners  of  the  Staked  Plains.  The  town  is 
surrounded  by  gardens  of  from  one  to  ten 
acres.  Each  garden  has  its  well,  its  wind- 
mill and  storage  pond,  called  "tank,"  for 
water.  This  is  the  individual  system  of  irri- 
gation. It  comes  pretty  near  reaching  per- 
fection at  Midland.  The  little  orchards,  vine- 
yards and  gardens  give  results  which  almost 
parallel  and  help  to  make  credible  the  tomato 
plant  story.  The  product  is  from  $100  to  $300 
an  acre.  On  these  little  tracts  the  yield  has 
been  as  much  as  600  bushels  of  sweet  potatoes 
and  800  bushels  of  onions  to  the  acre.  The 
ranch  trade  takes  all  the  sweet  potatoes  at  2c 
a  pound  and  the  onions  at  3c  and  4c  a  pound . 
These  "ten-acres-enough"  irrigators  have 
begun  to  experiment  in  other  directions  than 
vegetables.  They  have  tried  prunes  and  raisin 
grapes  on  a  small  scale,  and  they  think  they 
can  compete  with  California,  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  half  of  the  distance  and  less  freight 
rates.  What  rain  falls  on  this  lower  end  of 
the  Staked  Plains  country  comes  in  summer 
for  the  most  part.  It  is  about  20  inches.  That 
moans  a  dry  climate  where  the  man  with  the 
rasping  cough,  the  transparent  skin  and  the 
flushed  cheek  may  prolong  his  days  and  sub- 
stitute moderate  good  health  for  short-lived 
misery. 


Abilene  in  ten  years  ran  the  gamut  of  ex- 
perience. She  won  and  lost  the  supremacy  as 
the  outfitting  point  for  the  cattle  trade.  As  this 
drifted  westward  Abilene  "lit  on  her  feet," 


and  before  the  Southwest  generally  had  real- 
ized the  change  Abilene  had  become  the  prin- 
cipal wool  market  of  Texas.  The  shipments 
of  wool  at  this  point  climbed  to  8,000,000 
pounds  in  a  year.  The  Northern  shepherd 
must  remember  that  this  is  a  country  where 
the  wool  is  taken  off  twice  a  year  br  many 
sheep  growers. 


IN  THE  CATTLE  PENS  AT  COLORADO. 

Abilene  is  nothing  if  not  versatile.  While 
the  sheep  industry  flourished  she  remembered 
the  fate  of  her  cattle  trade  and  she  also  rec- 
ognized that  sheep  can  travel.  Without  wait- 
ing for  potatoes  to  grow  in  front  of  her  banks 
she  held  an  agricultural  fair.  An  agricultural 
fair  in  Western  Texas  in  1884!  It  paralyzed 
the  natives.  Then  a  Board  of  Trade  was  or- 
ganized. Roads  were  laid  out,  all  leading  to 


-61- 


Abilene  of  course.  Ten  or  fifteen  bridges 
were  built.  Soon  the  whole  face  of  the  coun- 
tiy  was  changed.  There  wasn't  any  thing  left 
to  make  the  visiting  cowboy  feel  at  home  ex- 
cept the  names  of  the  creeks,  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  the  Jim  Ned,  the  Bull  Wagon  and 
like  examples  of  range  nomenclature.  For 
several  years  Abilene  carried  off  the  sweep- 
stakes premium  for  her  agricultural  exhibit 
in  competition  with  thirty  or  forty  other 
counties  at  the  State  Fair.  And  now  there 
are  7000  people  in  Abilene.  They  tell  about 
their  wheat  and  their  oats  shipments.  Sev- 
eral thousand  farms  have  been  opened  up  in 
the  county.  Abilene  begins  to  have  the  airs 
of  a  long-settled  and  seriously  respectable 
city.  She  has  manufactories  of  various  kinds, 
some  possibilities  in  iron  and  coal  deposits,  a 
solid,  well-balanced  trade  of  numerous  lines. 
And  yet  but  ten  short  years  ago  what  a  rip- 
roaring  town  Abilene  was!  W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


The  Lost  Mine  and  the  Ancient  Church 
on  the  Rio  Grande. 


A  Padre's  Story— Web  Flanagan  on  Liv- 
ing Issues— Cosmopolitan  El  Paso— A 
Tariff  that  Did   Not  Prohibit. 


Six-rial  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

EL  PASO,  TEX.,  September  3.— Tourists  who 
stop  in  El  Paso  on  the  way  to  the  City  of 
Moxico  or  California  do  not  fail  to  visit  the 


forms  against  smuggling  are  being  complied 
with  the  stranger  has  his  choice  of  two 
methods  of  amusement.  He  can  speculate  on 
the  ease  with  which  he  has  evaded  the  laws  of 
his  country,  or  he  can  look  innocently  out  of 
the  car  window  upon  the  lower-class  Mexicans 
bathing  in  puris  naturalibus  along  the  banks 
below. 

The  old  church  on  the  square  at  Juarez  is  in 
every  guide  book.  It  is  the  first  introduction 
to  ancient  Mexico.  It  has  been  much  written 
about.  People  from  Maine  to  Oregon  have 
dropped  their  nickels  in  the  slot  "for  the  re- 
pair of  the  church."  But  not  many  became 
sufficiently  well  acquainted  with  the  good 
padre  to  hear  "the  story  of  the  lost  mine." 
Every  locality  where  precious  metals  have 
been  found  has  its  "lost  mine."  El  Paso 
County  is  not  exceptional.  Tradition  links 
this  particular  lost  mine  with  the  ancient 
church.  At  the  corner  of  the  edifice,  to  the 
left  of  the  main  entrance,  is  a  tower.  The 
door  is  usually  kept  padlocked.  Visitors  are 
free  to  enter  the  church  and  look  at  the 
curiously  jointed  wooden  ceiling,  the  pul- 
pit with  its  eccentric  stair  on  one  side, 
the  confessional  wholly  unlike  those  seen  in 
Catholic  churches  in  the  United  States,  and 
the  Madonna-like  face  of  Our  Lady  of  Guada- 
lupe.  Even  the  great  wooden  cross,  on  which 
is  hung  a  ghastly  form  for  the  crucifixion  pro- 
cession once  a  year,  is  exhibited,  but  the 
tower  is  closed.  Those  who  are  permitted  by 
special  favor  to  pass  the  door  find  a  stairway 
of  logs,  the  ends  of  which  overlap  and  form 
the  axis  of  the  circling  steps  without  any  other 


MEXICAN"  SUBURB   OP  Et,  PASO. 


ancient  church  at  Juarez.  Electric  cars 
cross  the  Rio  Grande.  The  thirty  seconds' 
stop  for  the  customs  officer  to  walk  through 
the  car  is  only  a  pleasant  episode.  While  the 


support.  At  the  top  of  this  freak  in  architect- 
ure there  is  a  small  room  with  outlooks 
through  the  heavy  walls.  And  from  this 
tower  the  way  leads  to  the  lost  mine.  The 


church  itself  is  on  an  elevation.  The  tower 
gives  a  view  over  the  flat  tops  of  the  one-story 
houses.  In  the  distance  can  be  seen  the 


tion  and  look  through  a  certain  window  in 
the  tower  and  in  a  line  with  certain  natural 
landmarks.  If  the  conditions  are  fully  com- 


IX  THK   OLD   CHURCH   AT  JUAREZ. 


Franklin  Mountains,  and  there  is 
the  lost  mine.  According  to  the 
tradition  one  must  stand  in  a  certain  posi- 


plied  with  the  vision  will  rest  on  the  rxact 
location  of  the  lost  mine.  But  whore  is  the 
place  to  stand,  which  is  the  window,  and 


what  arc  the  landmarks?    The  padre  shakes 
his  head.    He  would  like  to  know  himself. 

By  the  tradition  this  mine  was  worked  be- 
fore the  Spanish  conquest.  It  was  very  rich. 
From  it  the  natives  along  the  Rio  Grande  ob- 
tained the  massive  gold  ornaments  which 
they  wore  when  the  Spaniards  came.  In  the 
early  history  of  the  church  many  of  these 
golden  ornaments  were  laid  upon  the 
altar.  But  there  came  a  long  and 
stubborn  war  with  the  conquerors.  In- 
cursions of  Apaches  and  Comanches  made 
the  mountains  unhealthy.  Afterwards  the 
Pueblo  rebellion  engrossed  attention,  and 
still  later  was  the  American  invasion.  Amid 


The  friendliness  is  something  more  than 
diplomatic.  Mexicans  live  in  El  Paso;  Amer- 
icans do  business  in  Juarez.  The  Mexicans 
cut  grain  with  a  sickle  and  tread  it  out  by 
driving  burros  in  a  circle  on  the  American 
side  of  the  river.  An  American  clears  $13,000 
to  $15,000  a  year  from  a  vineyard  on  the 
Mexican  side  of  the  Rio.  This  is  a  happy  state 
of  affairs.  The  only  thing  that  is  holding  El 
Paso  back  is  the  need  of  more  water  for  irri- 
gation. The  development  of  the  valley  has 
outgrown  the  Rio  Grande.  Only  the 
other  day  the  authorities  on  the  Mex- 
ican side  issued  an  order  directing  that 
the  water  be  turned  from  the  Mexican 


NEXT  TO    GODLINESS. 


exciting  scenes  the  natives  lost  their  mine. 
Their  descendants  have  nothing  except  the 
tradition  of  the  church  tower  and  win- 
dow to  guide  them  to  it.  And  not  one  of 
them  seems  to  caro  to  look  for  the  landmarks. 
They  fold  their  serapes  about  them  and  stand 
beside  the  adobe  ia  poverty  all  of  their  lives 
rather  than  climb  to  the  top  of  the  tower  and 
look.  The  restless  American  is  the  only  one 
who  tries  to  solve  the  riddle.  He  visits  the 
tower,  ponders  long  on  the  landscape,  goes 
forth  to  search,  and  never  finds  the  mine. 

"There  is  the  very  kindest  feeling  here  with 
Mexico,"  said  Col.  Web  Flanagan,  Collector 
of  the  Port  of  El  Paso,  in  reply  to  a  question. 
"The  future  of  our  trade  relations  is  very 
bright.  The  re-election  of  President  Diaz 
means  progress,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of 
Gov.  Armido,  just  elected  Governor  of  Chi- 
huahua." 


ditches  into  the  river  two  days  in  the  week, 
in  order  that  the  poor  people  on  the  American 
side  might  save  their  crops.  A  great  interna- 
tional dam,  which  will  store  the  water  in  time 
of  surplus  for  time  of  need,  will  double  the 
population  and  production  of  the  valley  in 
two  years.  El  Paso  already  has  the  dam  on 
paper. 


El  Pa^o  is  cosmopolitan.  Jay  Gould,  in 
search  of  health,  spent  four  or  five  weeks  here 
last  spring.  This  was  the  one  place  where  he 
could  leave  his  private  car  and  walk  about 
like  a  plain  every-day  American  citizen.  No 
committee  intruded  upon  him.  People  didn't 
turn  around  and  look  after  him  or  make  re- 
marks about  him  in  his  hearing,  or  treat  him 
as  a  museum  freak  at  large.  Ho  took  occasion , 
before  his  departure,  to  remark  upon  this 
admirable  characteristic  pf  the  El  Paso  peo- 


—  64 


pie,  and  to  explain  that  he  had  prolonged  his 
stay  because  of  it. 

The  customs  revenue  at  El  Paso  has  reached 
$675,000.  Last  year  it  was  $550,000;  the 
year  before  that,  $50,000.  The  increase  is  the 
tariff  put  upon  ore  from  Mexico.  Ninety  per 


miner  has  the  ore  to  sell  and  he  goes  on 
shipping  and  paying  the  tariff  that  amounts 
to  a  division  of  the  Mexican  miner's  pro- 
fits with  the  United  States  Government. 
The  smelters  in  this  region  are  bound  to  have 
the  Mexican  ore  for  fluxing.  They  pay  a  little 


MEXICAN  WINE  VATS. 


cent  of  the  revenue  collected  at  El  Paso  is 
from  the  ore  importation.  From  twenty  to 
twenty-five  car-loads  of  silver-lead  ore  comes 
from  Mexico  across  the  Rio  Grande  daily.  It 
was  argued  when  the  duty  was  put  on  that  it 
would  be  prohibition;  that  smelters  would  be 
moved  to  Mexico  and  the  importations  would 
cease.  Instead  of  that,  the  ore  keeps  coming. 


more  for  this  ore  than  they  did  before  the 
tariff  was  put  on  and  make  up  for  it  by  charg- 
ing more  for  smelting.  Thus  the  burden  dis- 
tributes itself  and  the  Mexican  ores  keep  com- 
ing. The  Mexican  miner  gets  less  for  his  ore; 
the  smelter  charges  more  for  smelting;  the 
Government  of  the  United  States  adds  half  a 
million  a  year  to  its  revenue.  The  increase 


THK  SAMPLING  WORKS. 


El  Paso,  instead  of  losing  business  for  the 
smelters  she  had,  feels  confident  she  could 
keep  two  more  smelters  busy.  This  tariff  leg- 
islation has  a  way  of  confounding  the  proph- 
ets occasionally.  Importations  of  ore  have 
increased  instead  of  diminished  since 
the  imposition  of  the  duty.  The  Mexican 


has  already  been  enough  to  pay  for  the  hand- 
some new  Custom  House  into  which  Collector 
Flanagan  has  just  moved,  and  which  the 
Treasury  agents  say  has  no  superior  any- 
where in  Federal  architecture. 

The   Mexicans   protested  mightily  against 
the   tariff  put   on   their   ore   by   the  United 


-65 


States.  Yet  it  turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  best 
things  that  ever  happened  to  that  country.  It 
inspired  the  idea  of  building  smelters  south 
of  the  Rio  Grande.  The  smelters  on  this  side 
didn't  stop  on  account  of  the  tariff.  They 


Mr.  F.  W.  Edelsten,  formerly  Government 
assayer  at  El  Paso,  and  now  at  the  head  of  the 
El  Paso  Sampling  Works,  speaking  of  the  rad- 
ical change  of  mining  conditions  in  Mexico^ 
said:  "I  don't  think  there  is  any  question 


THE  SMELTER. 


simply  split  the  difference— took  part  of  it 
from  the  price  paid  to  the  Mexican  miner  and 
added  the  other  part  to  the  charge  upon  the 
American  miner  for  smelting.  But  other 
smelters  were  built  in  Mexico.  Before  the 
tariff  was  put  on  the  Mexicans  were  taking 
out  twenty  tons  of  ore  for  every  ton  shipped. 
On  account  of  the  high  transportation  charges, 


that  the  silver  product  of  Mexico  this  year 
will  exceed  that  of  the  United  States.  Last 
year  the  silver  product  of  this  country  was 
$58,000,000.  Mexico  was  $11,000,000  be- 
hind. Last  year,  on  the  1st  of  January,  there 
wasn't  a  single  smelter  of  any  magnitude  in 
Mexico.  If  Mexico  was  only  $11,000,000  be- 
low the  United  States  then  what  can  she  do 


AN  APIARY  IN  THE  ALFALFA  COUNTRY. 


they  couldn't  afford  to  send  the  nineteen  tons 
to  the  American  market.  With  smelters  of 
their  own  close  at  hand,  the  Mexicans  are 
working  up  the  ore  formerly  thrown  upon  the 
dump. 


when  the  nineteen  tons  out  of  twenty,  which 
was  formerly  thrown  away,  is  reduced,  as  is 
now  the  case?" 

"  Is   silver    production    increasing    in    the 
United  States?" 


"  I  doubt  very  much  if  the  product  of  this 
country  will  reach  $58,000,000  this  year." 
"What  about  Mexico's  future?" 
"  Mexico  is  the  greatest  silver  country  in  the 
world.  You  have  heard  of  the  Sierra  Mojada — 
the  wet  mountain  ?    That  is  proving  to  be  the 
greatest  lead  carbonate  deposit  in  the  world. 


allow  a  company  to  work  them  on  shares.  It 
costs  the  company  only  $3  a  ton  for  the  actual 
mining.  The  ore  is  piled  up  and  divided 
evenly.  That  brings  the  cost  to  the  company 
$6  a  ton.  This  ore  is  worth  $28  a  ton.  Prom 
this  margin  the  company  has  already  made  a 
great  fortune.  About  half  of  the  ore  now  com- 


EL  PASO'S   NEW  CUSTOM   HOUSE. 


Leadville  isn't  a  marker.  Sierra  Mojada  is  a 
great  mountain.  They  put  in  tunnels  any- 
where from  60  to  80  feet  and  get  ore.  There 
are  chambers  from  which  the  ore  bodies  have 
been  taken,  large  enough  to  hold  the  St. 
Louis  Exposition  building.  The  ore  goes  20 
ounces  of  silver  and  25  per  cent  lead.  The 
great  deposits  are  owned  by  Mexicans,  who 


ing  to  El  Paso  is  from  the  Sierra  Mojada.  It 
is  especially  desirable  for  mixing  with  Ameri- 
can ores  in  smelting." 


Ore  sampling  comes  very  near  reaching  per- 
fection at  El  Paso.    Ore  sells  in  car-load  lots 
on    the    sampling   certificate,  just   as   wheat 
i    changes  hands  with  its  grade  determined  by 


-67- 


the  inspector's  visit.  But  the  ore  sampling  is 
more  responsible  than  the  grain  inspecting. 
If  the  ore  falls  short  of  the  sampling  certifi- 
cate in  value,  the  difference  must  be  made  up 
by  the  sampler,  not  by  the  former  owner  of 
the  ore.  A  random  grab  at  a  car-load  of  ore 
might  show  100  ounces  of  silver  or  10  ounces 
of  silver  to  the  ton.  Hence  the  necessity  for 
the  most  complete  mixing  and  averaging  of 
values.  The  car-load  of  ore  goes  into 
an  automatic  machine  which  mixes  it 
and  lets  out  one-tenth  of  it.  That 
machine  enables  four  men  to  do  what 
would  require  twenty  without  it.  The  one- 
tenth  of  a  car-load  is  cut  down  to  four  wheel- 
barrow loads  by  shoveling.  The  four  wheel- 
barrow loads  go  through  small  rolls  reducing 
the  ore  to  gravel.  One- fourth  of  this  is  taken 
and  quartered  to  50  pounds.  The  50  pounds 
is  put  through  a  grinder,  which  further  mixes 
it  and  cuts  down  the  sample  to  half  a  shovel. 
That  goes  to  a  table  which  must  first  be  care- 
fully cleaned  with  brick-dust.  This  cleaning 
is  more  necessary  than  it  looks.  If  the  pre- 
vious sample  has  been  high-grade  it  may 
leave  enough  metal  on  the  table,  but  for  the 
cleaning,  to  make  a  difference  of  100  ounces 
to  the  ton.  Out  of  the  final  mixing  and  divid- 
ing on  the  table  a  half  ounce  of  ore  is  taken, 
and  from  that  the  assayer  determines  the 
amount  of  gold,  silver  and  lead  in  the  whole 
car-load  of  ore.  And  on  the  assayer 's  verdict 
from  the  half-ounce  assay  the  ore  changes 
hands  by  the  car-load.  Nine  times  the  ore  is 
mixed  and  divided  in  rapidly  reducing 
amounts  until  one-tenth  of  an  ounce  is  fairly 
representative  of  the  entire  car-load. 

Grain  men  understand  very  well  the  ele- 
vator art  of  adding  to  and  taking  from,  so  as 
to  improve  the  grade.  In  the  sampling  busi- 
ness there  is  something  akin  to  this.  When 
the  amount  of  lead  falls  below  a  certain  per- 
centage, 5,  the  smelters  do  not  allow  any- 
thing ftfr  it.  The  sampling  may  show  4  per 
cent  of  lead,  and  if  the  ore  be  left  as  it  is  the  4 
per  cent  of  lead  is  entirely  lost  to  the  miner. 
It  is  a  feature  of  the  sampling  business,  in 
such  cases,  to  add  from  rich  lead,  one  kept  in 
stock,  enough  to  carry  the  whole  car-load  to  5 
per  cent,  and  thus  the  value  of  the  4  per 
cent  of  lead  is  gained  to  the  miner.  By  a 
similar  rule  the  smelter  does  not  allow  for 
the  gold  in  the  ore  if  it  runs  below  one- 
tenth  of  an  ounce.  There  may  be  $1.80 
worth  of  gold  in  the  ore,  but  it  is  lost  to 
the  miner  if  the  ore  is  passed  along 
to  the  smelter  unchanged.  It  is  part  of 
the  sampling  business  in  that  event  to  add 
lOc  worth  of  gold,  bringing  the  value  up  to 
$1.90,  and  getting  that  out  of  the  smelter. 
In  the  assay  office  at  El  Paso  there  is  a  little 
fragment  of  ore  something  larger  than  a 
thumb  nail.  It  is  from  the  Santa  Margarita. 
A  St.  Louis  boy,  Mr.  Heckelman,  owned  the 
mine,  but  he  fell  sick,  and  under  the  rigid 


mining  law  of  Mexico  he  could  not  hold  it 
without  performing  a  certain  amount  of  work. 
Santa  Margarita  passed  into  the  possession  of 
a  Mexican.  The  other  day  the  new  owner 
came  into  El  Paso  with  two  little  sacks  of  ore. 
The  contents  netted  him  $10,000.  If  he  had 
had  a  ton  it  would  have  been  worth  $104,000. 

W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH    TEXAS. 


The  Days  of  Elephants  and  Three-Toed 
Horses  on  the  Staked  Plains. 


A  Geological    Freak— The  White    Sand 

Hills— Forests    of    Trees    Shin    High 

—The   Seven    Wells— Palo    Duro's 

Wonder. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

BEYOND  THE  BRAZOS,  TEX.,  September  4. — 
This  is  not  the  brand  new  country  which  some 
people  suppose  it  is.  These  hills  of  Western 
Texas  have  their  traditions  of  hidden  wealth, 
once  found ,  but  lost.  The  same  kind  of  sto- 
ries that  old  settlers  in  the  Ozarks  of  Missouri 
tell  are  current  here— about  Spaniards  who 
carried  off  bullion  by  the  burro  load.  In  the 
beautiful  Arbuckle  Mountains  of  the  Indian 
Territory  there  are  abandoned  mines  and  the 
ruins  of  an  abandoned  town  which  looks  as  if 
a  couple  of  centuries  or  more  may  have  passed 
since  occupation.  Traces  of  silver  are  found 
in  a  dozen  counties  of  Texas  between  the  Bra- 
zos and  the  Colorado.  From  the  car  window 
one  can  read  in  flaming  letters: 


OLDEN, 


FUTURE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  MINING 
CITY  OP  TEXAS. 


Here 'a  small  smelter  has  been  built  in  the 
woods.  Web  Flanagan  says  the  prospectors 
have  found  ore  which  assays  $16  of  silver  to 
the  ton.  But  so  far  no  bonanzas  have  been 
found.  If  the  Spaniards  got  out  great  wealth, 
they  either  exhausted  the  deposits  or  left  no 
pointers  for  future  generations.  That  they 
roamed  over  Western  Texas  there  is  abundant 
evidence.  The  trail  of  Coronado  has  been  dis- 
covered upon  the  Staked  Plain.  In  the  Yel- 
low Horse  Canyon  of  the  Upper  Panhandle 
there  was  uncovered  a  complete  suit  of  Span- 
ish armor.  The  Big  Spring,  in  Howard  Coun- 
ty, was  a  camping  place  for  white  men  long 
before  the  day  of  the  oldest  settler.  A  few 
years  ago  a  cloud  burst  just  above  the  spring 
and  washed  it  out.  In  the  debris,  when  the 


-68 


waters  subsided,  were  picked  up  many  old 
flint-lock  musket  barrels  and  some  patterns 
of  firearms  wholly  unknown  in  later  days. 

The  Indian  population  of  Texas  must  have 
been  very  large  at  some  remote  period. 
Around  the  water  holes  and  springs  of  the 
timbered  portions  of  the  State  the  traces  of 
Indian  settlements  are  general.  Before  white 
settlers  came  in  and  gathered  them  up,  the 
metales  on  which  the  Indian  women  ground 
the  corn,  just  as  the  Mexicans  do  to-day,  could 
be  seen  in  great  numbers  wherever  there  was 
living  water.  Arrow-heads  were  very  numer- 
ous. Texas,  however,  has  few  mounds.  Her 
Indians  were  not  of  that  class.  They  were 
more  like  the  cave  dwellers.  In  the  Guada- 


think  the  tract  is  the  bed  of  an  ancient  fresh 
water  lake.  Others  believe  it  to  be  the  former 
course  of  the  Pecos  River,  which  now  flows 
swiftly  through  a  channel  forty  miles  further 
west.  The  White  Sand  Hills  skirt  the  western 
edge  of  the  Staked  Plain  and  cross  into  New 
Mexico.  In  winter  this  freak  is  the  most  des- 
olate strip  on  earth,  outside  of  Death  Valley 
and  the  Sahara.  The  hills  shift  and  drift  with 
the  winds,  and  are  for  the  most  part  bare  of 
vegetation.  But  in  May  and  June  the  surface 
is  a  vast  flower  bed,  brilliant  and  fascinating. 
The  floral  carpet  gives  way  later  to  tall 
sedge  grass.  At  a  glance  this  appears  to  be  the 
dryest  spot  on  the  globe.  A  trip  among  the 
hills  shows  the  strip  to  be  unusually  well 


SIGNAL     MOUNTAIN. 


loupe  and  Diabolo  mountains  are  many 
caverns;  and  nearly  all  of  them  show  signs  of 
Indian  occupation.  Some  were  used  for 
burial  places.  Others  were  carefully  prepared 
for  purposes  of  defense.  Still  others  were 
warehouses  in  which  provisions  in  great 
quantities  were  stored. 


There  were  elephants  in  Texas— plenty  of 
them — in  the  early  days.  Bones  and  teeth 
have  been  dug  up  at  Wild  Horse  Spring.  From 
these  it  is  evident  that  the  elephant  roamed 
in  Howard  County,  2400  feet  above  the  sea 
level  and  upon  the  Great  Staked  Plain. 

Lying  between  the  Great  Staked  Plain  and 
the  Pecos,  is  a  geological  freak.  It  is  called 
"the  White  Sand  Hills."  This  curious  body 
of  land  is  150  miles  long,  and  from  five  to 
thirty  miles  wide.  Scientific  men  who  have 
seen  it  hold  diverse  theories  as  to  how  It  came 
into  existence.  The  level  of  White  Sand  Hills 
is  600  feet  below  the  Staked  Plain, 


watered.  Scattered  among  the  sand  dunes' 
are  hundreds  of  small  ponds,  which  contain 
the  purest  water  to  be  found  in  Texas.  Around 
the  ponds  grows  most  luxuriant  vegetation. 
It  consists  chiefly  of  tule  grass  and  tall 
reeds.  Scattered  through  the  hills  are  forests 
of  shin  oaks.  Approaching  one  of  these 
forests,  the  traveler  might  imagine  himself 
in  Lilliput.  The  shin  oak  tree  grows  from  6 
inches  to  a  foot  high.  It  usually  bears,  for 
its  size,  a  tremendous  crop  of  fairly  large 
acorns.  In  the  sand  heaps  are  sometimes 
found  the  trunks  of  trees  from  18  inches  to  2 
feet  in  diameter.  They  have  the  bark  on 
and  are  in  a  fair  state  of  preservation,  but 
they  evidently  belong  to  past  ages.  Nothing 
larger  than  the  shin  oak,  and  the  mesquite 
brush  now  grows  in  the  White  Sand  Hills.  The 
mast  is  abundant  enough  to  stock  the  big 
Fort  Worth  packery,  which  eats  up  a  hog  a 
minute  when  it  can  get  them.  But  this  mast 
serves  at  present  to  maintain  a  great  variety 


-69- 


of  wild  animal  life.  The  jack  rabbit  is 
the  mastodon  of  the  shin  oak  for- 
ests. He  can  skip  about  and  look 
over  the  tops  of  the  trees  without  half 


Black  tail  deer,  an  occasional  skunk  and  the 
yelping  coyote  make  up  the  wild  animal  life 
of  this  queer  region. 
Horses,  cattle  and  civilized  hogs  live  in  the 


A  RANCH  OP  RAILROAD  TIES. 


trying.  Molly  Cotton-tail,  first  cousin  to 
Jack  Rabbit,  is  numerous.  There  is  a  peculiar 
little  ground  squirrel  which  industriously 
gathers  the  acorns  and  stores  them  in  a  hole 
under  a  mesquite  bush.  Then  comes  along 


White  Sand  Hills  and  do  well.  The  cowboys 
say  that  the  white  sand  gets  hot  enough  on  a 
summer  day  to  heat  water.  They  claim  to 
take  the  coffee  pot  from  the  fire  and  set  it  on 
the  sand  to  hurry  the  boiling.  They  tell  a 


LATE  OWNERS  OP  THE   STAKED  PLAINS. 


the  peccary,  or  javalina,  the  wild  hog  of 
Texas,  industriously  digs  a  larger  and  deeper 
hole  under  the  same  mesquite  bush  and  eats 
the  squirrel's  acorns,  passing  on  with  a  snort 
of  defiance  to  capital  both  alien  and  domestic. 


story  of  two  shepherds  toiling  through  the 
White  Sand  Hills  with  flocks  of  sheep.  One 
was  driving  close  to  the  railroad  track.  The 
other  was  half  a  mile  away.  A  train  rattled 
by  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five  miles  an  hour. 


-70- 


On  the  rear  platform  of  the  sleeper  sat  a  fat 
old  fellow  in  his  shirt  sleeves.  He  had  a  glass 
of  something  in  one  hand  and  a  palm  leaf  fan 
in  the  other.  The  sight  turned  the  head  of 
the  shepherd  by  the  track.  He  left  his  flock 
and  waded  half  a  mile  thiough  the  sand  to 
the  other  shepherd  just  for  the  purpose  of 
asking  him  if  he  had  "  seen  i  hat."  And  then 
the  two  took  turns  in  abusing  with  all  of  the 
picturesque  and  expressive  language  they 
could  remember  a  man  whom  neither  had 
ever  met  and  whose  only  crime  was  being 
comfortable.  That  is  human  nature  in  the 
White  Sand  Hills  of  Texas  and  in  the  third 
party. 


siderable  strength.  The  water  comes  in  at 
one  side  and  passes  out  through  the  other. 
Its  direction  is  toward  the  Pecos  River.  One 
theory  advanced  in  explanation  of  these  wells 
is  that  a  roof  of  a  great  cavern  through 
which  an  underground  river  passes  has 
dropped  down  in  places. 

In  digging  wells  in  the  Sand  Hills  many 
bones  are  found.  They  are  remains  of  masto- 
dons, bear,  mountain  lions,  elephants  and 
other  large  animals  not  now  found  in  Texas. 
The  White  Sand  Hills  country  seems  to  be 
very  rich  in  these  things,  and  it  is  a  field 
which  has  scarcely  been  touched. 

A  strange  formation  is  found  in  the  Seven 


WALLS   OF  THE   PALO   DURO. 


The  underground  water  supply  of  the  White 
Sand  Hills  is  another  of  the  surprises  of  this 
region.  For  well  digging  the  conditions  seem 
to  be  most  forbidding.  Yet  good  water  is 
found  at  depths  varying  from  the  grass  roots 
to  30  feet.  And  when  the  flow  is  struck  it  is 
practically  inexhaustible.  There  seems  to  be 
some  underground  communication  with  the 
Pecos.  Either  that  is  the  case  or  else  the 
whole  Sand  Hills  strip  is  over  a  river  which 
flows  slowly  through  the  sand.  - ; 

Fifteen  miles  south  of  the  place  where  the 
White  Sand  Hills  come  to  an  end  is  an  isolated 
peak  known  as  Castle  Mountain.  Near  the 
mountain  is  a  series  of  natural  wells.  Water 
does  not  rise  to  the  surface  and  flow,  but  in 
all  of  the  wells  there  is  a  current  of  con- 


Wells  of  Mitchell  County.  That  is  in  this 
same  interesting  region  of  Western  Texas. 
At  the  junction  of  two  creeks  is  a  bed  of 
friable  gray  sandstone  mixed  with  coarse 
gravel.  Water  passing  over  the  ledge  has 
worn  away  apart  of  it,  and  has  created  a  fall 
of  30  feet.  The  loose  gravel  carried  round 
and  round  in  the  eddies  has  gradually  bored 
holes  in  the  sandstone.  These  holes  are  from 
3  to  6  feet  wide,  circular,  and  from  50  to  100 
feet  deep.  There  are  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
of  them,  all  filled  with  fresh  water.  By  the 
long  continued  churning  of  the  gravel  they 
have  been  made  jug-shaped  or  cistern-like, 
and  in  some  instances  the  wall  dividing  two 
wells  has  been  cut  through.  This  must  have 
been  a  favorite  watering  place  with  the  but- 


-71- 


falo.  In  the  solid  rock  is  cut  a  deep  trail 
down  to  the  water.  And  where  the  descent  is 
steepest  the  foot-marks  are  over  6  inches 
deep,  showing  that  every  animal  passing 
there  put  its  foot  exactly  in  the  spot  occupied 
by  those  which  had  preceded  it. 


In  the  thrilling  Indian'and  border  stories  of 
twenty  years  ago  figured  a  chasm  of  the  plain. 
Sometimes  the  description  was  of  a  herd  of 
buffalo  stampeding  toward  the  brink,  and 
suddenly  plunging  downward  a  thousand  feet 
to  wholesale  death.  Occasionally  the  able 
pen  of  the  romancer  pictured  similar  de- 


1500  feet  deep.  In  places  they  fall  sheer; 
in  other  places  they  are  not  quite  so 
abrupt.  But  for  sixty  miles  there  is  only 
one  crossing  of  the  canyon  for  loaded  wagons. 
You  drive  over  a  treeless,  boundless  plain, 
the  short,  soft  buffalo  grass  deadening  sound 
and  easing  jolts.  There  is  no  previous  indi- 
cation of  the  chasm.  The  break  in  the  surface 
is  not  noticeable  until  the  horses  are  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  edge.  Leaning  over,  you  look 
down  upon  a  strange  scene.  There  is  a  wall 
at  your  feet  and  another  from  half  a  mile  to 
two  miles  opposite.  Between  these  walls,  at 
the  base,  is  river,  meadow,  pine  forest,  water- 


T1IE   WATERFALL  OF  PALO   DURO. 


struction  of  Indians  in  a  fight  with  the  ever- 
victorious  "long  guns."  Again  fancy  took 
the  lonely  scout  to  the  brink  of  the  precipice, 
and  showed  his  faithful  stud  rearing  back- 
ward from  the  edge  of  the  abjrss.  This  chasm 
on  the  plain  was  the  favorite  spot  for  the  cri- 
sis of  the  plot.  People  of  the  age  of  discre- 
tion who  glanced  over  the  Indian  stories  of 
twenty  years  ago  gave  no  more  credence  to 
the  chasm  than  they  did  to  the  rest  of  the 
marvels.  But  the  chasm  was  and  is  a  fact.  It 
can  be  visited  to-day  by  those  who  do  not 
shrink  from  a  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
drive  across  the  plain  from  any  one  of  half 
a  dozen  railroad  stations  in  the  Panhandle 
of  Texas.  The  chasm  is  nearly  100  miles 
long.  Its  course  is  from  northwest  to 
southeast.  The  precipices  are  from  300  to 


fall,  all  combined.  But  the  tops  of  the  tallest 
pines  come  nowhere  near  the  level  of  the 
plain.  This  is  the  Palo  Duro  canyon.  It  is 
as  much  a  curiosity  in  its  way  as  the  Big  Trees 
of  Calaveras,  the  Yellowstone  Park  or  the 
Grand  Canyon.  In  some  parts  of  its  sixty  or 
eighty  miles  course  the  Palo  Duro  is  wild 
and  rugged.  In  others  it  broadens  until  there 
is  room  for  pastures  as  well  as  for  forests. 
From  the  edge  above,  the  river  below  looks 
like  an  insignificant  brook.  But  small  as  it 
appears,  it  is  one  of  the  main  tributaries  of 
the  Red  River,  and  it  comes  all  of  the  way 
from  the  mountains. 

In  the  walls  of  the  Palo  Duro  canyon  the 
scientists  read  the  beginning  of  things.  In 
the  region  about  they  are  having  a  grand 
round-up  of  fossils  this  summer.  From  one 


bed  have  been  resurrected  seven  kinds  of 
horses.  Some  of  them  had  three  toes  and 
were  no  larger  than  dogs.  Of  camels,  rhi- 
noceroses and  mastodons  there  are  two  kinds 
each  in  this  great  aggregation  of  bones.  Cor- 
morants were  uncovered  in  great  variety. 
More  horses,  three  species  of  mastodons, 
camels,  magalonyx  and  three  kinds  of  land 
turtles  have  been  dug  up  within  a  few  weeks 
in  another  locality.  One  of  these  tortoises  is 
a  monster.  He  is  as  large  as  the  largest  tur- 
tles found  along  the  Gulf  coast,  measuring 
more  than  3  feet  across  the  shell.  Along 
Tulle  canyon,  a  branch  of  the  great  Palo 
Duro,  is  found  the  highest  elevation  of  the 
Staked  Plain,  and  there  is  located  the  great- 
est show  on  earth  in  fossils.  In  one 
bed  can  be  seen  the  bones  of  elephants, 
horses,  camels,  tortoises  and  numerous 
small  animals.  Scattered  among  the  bones 
are  shells,  and  400  feet  below  in  the  bottom 
of  the  canyon  these  same  kinds  of  shells 
are  found  alive  in  the  water.  All  of  the 
discoveries  made  by  the  scientists  in  this 
midsummer  exploration  were  not  fossil- 
ized. In  springs  and  creeks  outside  of 
Texas  there  is  occasionally  seen  a  repulsive 
little  animal  called  a  water-dog.  It  is  cold, 
slimy  and  smooth- skinned.  On  the  Staked 
Plains  the  water-dogs  are  at  home.  In  the 
lakes  they  are  as  thick  as  tadpoles  in  a  frog 
pond,  and  when  a  rain  storm  comes  these 
reptiles  leave  the  lakes  and  crawl  in  all  di- 
rections. They  are  innumerable.  They  make 
themselves  as  disagreeable  as  the  frogs  did  in 
Egypt.  W.  B-  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


A  Visit  to  Senora  Candelaria,  Heroine 
of    the  Alamo— The  Brave  Spanish 
Woman  in  Whose  Arms  Bowie  was 
Butchered— Her   Story    of    How 
David   Crockett   and   His  Fol- 
lowers   Met    Death. 

"Thermopylae   had   Her   Messenger   of 
Defeat,  but  the  Alamo  had  None." 

Skeptical  Tom    Rife— Housekeeping  at 
the  Age  of  1O7— The  Missions— How  In- 
dians -were  Converted— "Santone's" 
Fifty  Years  of  Revolutions. 

Special  correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

SAN  ANTONIO,  TEX.,  September  6.— "Over 
the  San  Pedro,"  the  San  Antonian  says. 
"Over  the  San  Pedro' '  is  the  Mexican  mar- 
ket. "Over  the  San  Pedro"  is  everything 
Mexican.  "Over  the  San  Pedro' '  Senora  Can- 
delaria lives.  The  San  Pedro  comes  bubbling 
up  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  in  three  great 


springs  a  little  way  out  of  San  Antonio.  So 
much  of  it  as  isn't  led  off  into  irrigating 
ditches,  wriggles  its  way  through  the  most 
densely  settled  part  of  the  city.  By  common 
consent  the  San  Pedro  has  come  to  be  the  di- 
viding line  between  American  San  Antonio 
and  Mexican  San  Antonio.  And  by  general 
usage  "over  the  San  Pedro"  now  stands  for 
the  Mexican  San  Antonio. 

"Senora  Candelaria,"  the  San  Antonian 
said,  "lives  over  the  San  Pedro."  He  didn't 
seem  to  think  it  was  necessary  to  add  any- 
thing more  definite.  And  so  "over  the  San 
Pedro' '  the  way  was  taken.  One  needs  to  have 
his  eyes  open  or  he  will  get  "over  the  San 
Pedro"  without  knowing  it.  The  stream 
comes  stealing  down  among  the  houses  and 
under  sidewalks  and  bridge  without  any  noise 
or  fuss.  It  is  as  mild-mannered  as  the  Mexi- 


THE  ALAMO. 


cans  have  been  in  later  years  before  the  ag- 
gressive, pushing  American,  who  now  calls 
his  San  Antonio  the  San  Antonio  and  recog- 
nizes the  Mexican  San  Antonio  as  only  "over 
the  San  Pedro. ' '  The  stream  is  crossed.  The 
house  fronts  become  a  little  more  distinctively 
Mexican.  Through  the  open  doors  is  heard 
an  unfamiliar  language,  soft  and  sibilant.  At 
a  corner  where  the  beer  kegs  smell  or  stale  by 
any  other  name,  the  inquiry  is  made  once 
more  for  Senora  Candelaria.  And  straight- 
way a  dark-skinned  Mexican  in  a  high 
hat  leaves  the  group  of  his  fellows  and 
leads  the  way  down  a  side  street.  He  stops  at 
a  narrow  passage  between  two  houses,  looks 
back  and  passes  in.  He  turns  a  corner,  crosses 
a  little  court-yard,  turns  another  corner,  enters 
a  little  house  which  stands  by  itself,  goes 
through  a  kitchen  such  as  might  do  for  child- 
ren to  play  at  house-keeping,  and  stops  on  the 
threshold  of  another  little  room.  The  next  mo- 
ment he  is  explaining  to  the  senora  sitting  in 
her  low  rocking  chair  that  these  senores  have 
come  all  the  way  from  St.  Louis  to  soo  her.  The 
withered  hand  which  gave  Bowie  his  last  sup 


-73- 


of  water  ere  the  bayonets  pierced  him  on  his 
sick  bed,  is  held  out  in  welcome.  The  dimmed 
eyes  which  saw  David  Crockett  fall  in  front  of 
the  Alamo,  are  turned  upon  the  visitors.  The 
ears  which  heard  Travis  appeal  to  his  fellow 
Texans  to  "die  with  him' '  listened  to  the  ex- 
planation of  the  guide. 

One  hundred  and  seven  years  old,  Senora 
Candelaria  is  the  only  survivor  of  the  Alamo. 
Bowie  was  sick  with  the  typhoid  fever  when 
Santa  Anna  came  with  his  army  to  take  San 
Antonio.  The  Americans  retreated  to  the  old 
church  of  the  Alamo,  and  fortified  themselves 
there  for  desperate  defense.  Bowie  had  his 
cot  carried  in.  There  Senora  Candelaria  went 
to  nurse  the  sick  man,  and  there  she  remained 
through  the  desperate  struggle  which  ended 
only  when  every  man  of  the  172  Americans 
was  dead. 


The  senora  speaks  a  little  English.  When 
she  knew  that  the  story  of  the  Alamo  was 
wanted  in  all  its  thrilling  details  from  her 
own  lips  she  sent  for  her  grandson,  a  trim, 
handsome  young  man,  to  act  as  interpreter. 


In  1835  Santa  Anna  set  aside  republican 
forms  of  government  in  Mexico.  He  ignored 
the  Constitution.  He  ordered  the  militia  re- 
duced to  a  minimum  and  disarmed.  That 
furnished  the  Americans  in  Texas  their  for- 
mal grounds  for  revolt.  They  raised  an  army, 
and  after  desperate  fighting  took  San  An- 
tonio, forcing  surrender  of  the  Mexican 
troops.  Then  they  disbanded  and  went  home, 
all  save  a  small  body  of  men  left  under  arms 
at  San  Antonio.  Politics  took  the  place  of 
war.  A  "consultation"  of  Americans  was 
held  and  a  provisional  government  was  or- 
ganized. Santa  Anna  started  from  Mexico 
with  an  army  to  crush  the  rebellion.  And 
when  he  approached  San  Antonio  the  little 
body  of  Americans,  instead  of  retreating, 
marched  into  the  Alamo  church.  They  took 
with  them  twenty  or  thirty  beeves.  They 
tore  down  Mexican  huts  and  carried  the  wood 
inside  for  cooking.  To  every  man  was  as- 
signed his  place  on  the  walls  for  defense. 
David  Crockett  and  his  twelve  Tennesseeans 
were  given  the  main  entrance  to  hold.  Santa 
Anna  reached  the  suburbs  of  San  Antonio. 


•I     I    1 

'F~T 

irr 


A  SAN  ANTONIO    RIVER    SCENE. 


Leaning  forward,  speaking  rapidly,  using  her 
hands  to  emphasize  her  description,  the  little 
senora  told  the  story  which  has  no  parallel  in 
history  save,  perhaps,  Thermopylae.  Again 
and  again  the  grandson  was  obliged  to  check 
the  torrent  of  language  that  he  might  inter- 
pret. Fifty-six  years  ago  the  Alamo  fell,  but 
the  event  is  as  of  yesterday  in  Senora  Can- 
delaria's  memory. 


He  had  4000  men.  He  waited  eight  days  for 
Tolsa  to  join  him  with  2000  more.  That  made 
an  army  of  6000  to  capture  an  old  church  held 
by  172  Texans.  Santa  Anna  sent  a  couple  of 
officers  with  a  white  flag  demanding  sur- 
render. Travis  replied  defiantly  with  a 
shot  from  the  cannon  which  had  been 
dragged  into  the  church  and  hoisted  into  the 
tower. 


-74- 


"  We  were  expecting  the  attack  every  day, ' ' 
said  the  senora,  "  and  one  morning  at  4 
o'clock  it  came.  We  heard  the  drums  and  the 
bugles,  and  then  the  firing  began.  It  was  all 
over  by  9  o'clock.''  She  held  up  her  hands 
and  shook  her  head. 

The  Mexicans  assaulted  in  four  columns. 
They  were  close  up  to  the  walls  before  the 
Texans  made  any  response.  They  were  even 
mounting  the  ladders  when  flames  shot  out 
from  every  part  of  the  church  and  court. 
Those  of  the  attacking  party  who  did  not  fall 
before  the  fearful  volley  were  struck  upon  the 
head  with  clubbed  muskets  and  thrown  down 
the  ladders.  The  Texans  had  heaped  up  bags 
of  sand  breast  high  at  the  doors.  They  had 
protected  themselves  in  a  similar  manner  on 
the  walls.  Every  time  a  Texan' s  rifle  cracked 
a  Mexican's  life  went  out. 

"  I  have  never  seen  men  die  before  with  the 
indifference  of  these  Mexicans,"  said  a  Eu- 
ropean officer  under  Maximilian  upon  one  oc- 
casion. It  was  this  characteristic  of  the  Mex- 
ican soldier  which  sealed  the  fate  of  the  de- 
fenders of  the  Alamo.  Repeatedly  the  lad- 
ders were  cleared  and  the  ground  below  was 
covered  with  dead  and  dying,  but  onward 
moved  those  attacking  columns.  And  finally, 
perhaps  because  of  the  exhaustion  of  the  de- 
fenders, perhaps  because  ammunition  tem- 
porarily failed,  one  of  the  assaulting  parties 
was  able  to  gain  a  footing  on  a  corner  of  the 
fort. 

Crockett  died  in  front  of  the  main  entrance. 
Tradition  has  it  that  he  was  almost  covered 
with  the  bodies  of  Mexicans  who  fell  at  his 
hands.  Senora  Candelaria  says  this  is  not 
true.  Just  at  the  left,  as  one  passes  in  at  the 
main  door  of  the  church,  is  a  little  corner  room 
walled  off  from  the  main  portion  of  the  church. 
In  that  room  the  senora  was  nursing  the  dying 
Bowie,  inventor  of  the  knife  which  bears  his 
name.  Through  the  door  of  this  room  she 
saw  David  Crockett  come  forward  to  the  main 
entrance  as  an  assaulting  column  approached. 
She  saw  him  leap  upon  the  barricade  of  sand 
bags  as  if  to  meet  death  half  way,  and  she 
saw  him  fall  before  one  of  the  first  volleys. 
There  were  others  who  fought  behind  the  bar- 
ricade to  the  last.  They  used  their  rifles  as 
long  as  the  enemy's  distance  gave  them  time 
to  load.  Then  with  clubbed  guns  they  struck 
down  the  Mexicans  as  often  as  they  tried  to 
climb  over  the  sand  bags.  And  when  some  of 
the  Mexicans  had  gained  the  interior  the  Tex- 
ans cut  them  down  with  their  knives.  At  last 
the  Mexicans  wheeled  a  cannon  in  front  of 
that  barricade  of  sand  bags,  charged  it  with 
grape  and  canister  and  fired  it  point-blank 
through  the  main  entrance.  They  repeated 
this  and  then  they  entered.  Fifteen  dead 
Texans  lay  on  one  side  of  the  sand  bags  and 
forty-two  dead  Mexicans  on  the  other  side. 

"Bowie,"  said  Senora  Candelaria,  "was 
too  sick  to  do  any  fighting.  He  had  the 


typhoid  fever.  When  the  Mexicans  came  in 
they  killed  him.  After  that  I  tried  to  keep 
them  from  mutilating  the  body.  Other  Mex- 
ican soldiers  came  in.  I  pretended  to  be  giv- 
ing Bowie  a  cup  of  water.  I  held  his  head  in 
my  arms  so." 

The  senora  raised  her  arms  and  went 
through  the  pantomime. 

"  I  told  them,' '  she  continued,  "  that  Bowie 
was  dying  and  I  tried  to  keep  them  off.  One 
of  them  thrust  his  bayonet  toward  Bowie.  He 
struck  me  and  made  this. ' ' 

The  senora  raised  her  chin  and  pointed  to 
the  deep  scar  which  over  half  a  century  had 
failed  to  wipe  out.  She  was  pushed  over  by 
the  force  of  the  thrust,  and  as  she  lay  there 
bleeding  she  saw  the  Mexican  soldiers  plunge 


SENORA   CANDELARIA   AT  107. 


their  bayonets  into  Col.  Bowie's  body,  raise 
it  high  in  air  above  their  heads  and  hold  it 
there  while  the  blood  ran  down  their  guns 
and  over  their  clothes. 


In  most  battles  the  wounded  exceed  the 
dead,  four  or  five  to  one.  At  the  Alamo  the 
proportions  were  reversed.  Within  the  church 
there  were  no  wounded  when  the  fighting 
ceased.  Every  Texan  was  dead.  The  night 
before  the  morning  of  the  assault  one  Texan 
left  the  Alamo.  His  name  was  Rose.  He 
leaped  down  from  the  wall  and  made  his  way 
out  of  the  city  and  into  the  country.  His 
story  was  that  every  one  of  the  172  comrades 
he  left  behind  deliberately  chose  death. 
Travis,  as  Rose  told  it,  called  the  band  to- 
gether and  said  there  was  no  longer  any  hope 
of  re-enforcements. 

"We  must  die,"  were  his  words.  "Three 
modes  are  presented  to  us.  Let  us  choose  that 
by  which  we  may  best  serve  our  country. 
Shall  we  surrender  and  be  shot  without  taking 
the  life  of  a  single  enemy?  Shall  we  try  to  cut 
our  way  out  through  Mexican  ranks  and  be 


-75- 


butchered  before  we  can  kill  twenty  of  our 
adversaries?  I  am  opposed  to  either  of  those 
methods.  Let  us  resolve  to  withstand  our  ad- 
versaries to  the  last,  and  at  each  advance  to 
kill  as  many  of  them  as  possible.  And  when 
at  last  they  storm  our  fortress  let  us  kill  them 
as  they  come;  kill  them  as  they  scale  our 
wall;  kill  them  as  they  leap  within;  kill  them 
as  they  raise  their  weapons  and  as  they  use 
them;  ki.l  them  as  they  kill  our  companions, 
and  continue  to  kill  as  long  as  one  of  us  shall 
remain  alive." 

And  that  impassioned  appeal  was  followed 
to  the  letter.  Travis  gave  to  every  man  his 
choice  of  adopting  this  course  or  attempting 
to  escape. 


"  Should  any  man  prefer  to  surrender  or  to 
attempt  an  escape,  he  is  at  liberty  to  do  so," 
Travis  said.  Rose  looked  at  the  walls  and 
then  around  him.  He  saw  Crockett  leaning 
over  Bowie's  cot  and  talking  in  low,  earnest 
tones.  Bowie  saw  Rose  and  said  quietly, 
"  You  seem  not  to  be  willing  to  die  with  us, 
Rose." 

Rose  replied,  "No,  I  am  not  prepared  to  die, 
and  shall  not  do  so  if  I  can  help  it." 

Then  Crockett  took  up  the  conversation  and 
said :  "You  may  as  well  conclude  to  die  with 
us,  old  man;  there  is  no  escape." 

No  tinge  of  reproach  was  in  the  tones.  All 
were  as  men  already  in  the  shadow.  Rose 
climbed  slowly  to  the  top  of  the  wall.  He 


'OVER  THE  SAN   PEDRO.1 


"My  choice,"  said  the  commander,  "is  to 
stay  in  the  fort  and  die  for  my  country,  fight- 
ing as  long  as  breath  shall  remain  in  my 
body." 

He  drew  a  mark  down  the  front  of  the  line 
and  said:  "  I  now  want  every  man  who  is  de- 
termined to  stay  here  and  die  with  me  to 
cross  this.  Who  will  be  the  first  ?' ' 

Tapley  Holland  stepped  forward  the  next 
instant,  saying,  "  I  am  ready  to  die  for  my 
country."  And  every  man  but  Rose  fol- 
lowed. 

Col.  Bowie  heard  and  saw  what  was  going 
on.  Raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he  said; 
"Boys,  I  am  not  able  to  come  to  you,  but  I 
wish  some  of  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  move 
my  cot  over  there.' '  Four  men  lifted  the  cot 
and  placed  it  on  the  die-but-never-surrender 
side.  Several  others  who  were  sick  followed 
Bowie's  example. 


looked  down.  The  men  were  going  about  ar- 
ranging everything  for  the  final  struggle. 
None  of  them  looked  at  him  or  spoke.  Rose 
dropped  on  the  outside,  crawled  along  the 
ground,  sought  the  deepest  shadows,  forded 
the  river  and  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 
He  was  not  far  away  when  the  deep  boom 
told  him  that  the  cannonading  had  been 
resumed. 

How  many  Mexicans  fell  at  the  Alamo? 
There  is  only  Mexican  authority  for  it,  but 
the  number  of  their  dead  is  given  as  521  and 
the  wounded  as  300.  Another  Mexican  re- 
port of  the  battle  is  that  2,000  were  killed.  In 
one  of  these  reports  it  is  stated  that  the  dead 
Mexicans  were  generally  shot  in  the  head,  and 
that  few  of  the  wounds  inflicted  were  below 
the  neck  and  shoulders. 

"After  the  battle,"  said  the  senora,  "I 
begged  from  the  officers  the  body  of  CoL 


-78- 


Bowie.    They  would  not  let  me  have  it.    All 
of  the  Americans  were  taken  out  on  the  plaza 


burned  the  rest  of  the  day  till  sundown.  After 
that  what  was  left  of  the  bones  was  buried 


and  piled  up,  first  a  lot  of  wood  and  then  a  lot 
of  bodies;  more  wood  and  more  bodies.  When 
all  were  in  a  heap,  the  wood  was  fired.  It 


near  a  corner  of  the  plaza.  I  wanted  to  give 
Col.  Bowie  burial,  but  he  was  burned  with 
the  others." 


-77- 


The  senora  makes  no  mistake  in  her  age. 
She  says  she  is  107.  And  when  asked  the 
year  of  her  birth  she  answers,  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  "  In  November,  1785." 
She  is  strong,  she  says — all  but  the  eyes. 
Vision  has  been  failing  now  for  two  or  three 
years.  But  the  hearing  is  right.  In  her  little 
home  she  does  her  own  work,  and  is  only  un- 
happy when  her  son  insists  that  she  shall 
leave  some  of  her  household  duties  to  others. 

"My  father,"  explained  the  grandson, 
"  doesn't  want  her  to  do  her  washing,  but  she 
will  steal  off  to  the  back  of  the  houses  and 
hide  from  him  to  wash  her  own  clothes.  She 
likes  nothing  better  than  to  have  Gen.  Stan- 
ley, with  whom  she  is  well  acquainted,  come 
here  and  let  her  cook  a  Mexican  dinner  for 
him." 


TELLING  THE  STORY. 


While  the  young  man  spoke  the  old  lady 
nodded  and  laughed,  as  if  she  partly  under- 
stood what  he  was  saying.  To  all  Americans 
she  is  known  as  the  Senora  Candelaria. 

"Candelaria,"  she  said,  "is  not  my  real 
name.  I  assumed  that  in  going  among  the 
Americans,  with  whom  I  sympathized.  My 
name  from  my  parents  was  Andrae  Castanon. 
My  father  was  a  Spanish  officer  of  rank  in 
Cuba.  My  mother  was  of  Mexico.  I  was 
born  in  Laredo  on  St.  Andrew's  day,  1786. 
At  the  time  of  the  troubles  here  between  the 
Americans  and  the  Mexicans  I  had  money  and 
property.  I  was  rich.  My  sympathies  were 
with  the  Americans.  I  nursed  the  American 
soldiers  when  they  were  sick  and  wounded. 
I  used  my  means  to  help  the  Americans.  I 
have  been  told  that  the  Government  at  Wash- 


ington might  think  me  worthy  of  a  pension 
for  the  little  time  I  have  left  to  live,  if  the 
matter  was  properly  presented.' ' 


Deeply  wrinkled,  swarthy,  vivacious,  the 
senora  makes  a  striking  picture  in  her  scru- 
pulously clean  little  home.  American  San 
Antonio  has  great  respect  for  her.  A  portrait 
of  her  hangs  in  a  place  of  honor  at  the  City 
Hall.  The  State  of  Texas  has  acknowledged 
formally  the  part  she  took  at  the  Alamo.  Col. 
Tip  Ford,  the  pioneer  and  old  Indian  fighter, 
believes  the  senora' s  story.  There  are  some 
skeptics,  and  one  of  them  is  Tom  Rife,  the 
grizzled  custodian  of  the  Alamo.  Rife  has 
been  here  fifty-one  years.  He  came  after  the 
Alamo  had  fallen,  but  in  time  to  do  some 
fighting  for  Texas.  He  doesn't  believe  the 
senora  was  in  the  Alamo,  but  his  argument  is 
more  dogmatic  than  conclusive. 

"I  have  known  Mme.  Candelaria  fifty-one 
years,' '  said  Rife,  as  he  was  showing  the  way 
through  the  old  fort.  "  She  says  she  is  107 
years  old.  According  to  that  she  had  children 
when  she  was  65  years  old." 

Rife  stops  and  looks  at  the  visitors  with  an 
air  of  that  settles  it. 

"Don't  you  think  the  senora  was  in  the 
Alamo  when  it  fell  ?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  replies  the  veteran,  with 
emphasis. 

"  Then  you  think  the  story  of  her  nursing 
Bowie  is  fiction,  do  you?' ' 

"It's  a  lie,"  replies  the  veteran,  choosing 
the  shorter  and  plainer  words. 

But  notwithstanding  the  skepticism  of  Rife 
and  of  a  few  others,  it  is  common  belief  that 
the  senora  is  to-day  the  only  survivor  of  the 
Alamo.  The  story  she  told,  as  given  above, 
was  translated  with  care  by  her  grandson, 
who  repeatedly  questioned  her  that  he  might 
be  accurate.  It  differs  in  some  details  from 
the  accounts  previously  attributed  to  her, 
and  it  embraces  some  points  that  are  new 
perhaps. 

Rife  argues  that  because  in  the  early  years 
the  senora  did  not  publicly  claim  to  have 
been  in  the  Alamo  with  the  Americans  her 
later  declaration  is  impaired.  This,  is  not  a 
fair  argument.  The  same  conditions  which 
prompted  her  to  assume  a  fictitious  name  in 
her  intercourse  with  the  Americans  would 
prompt  her  to  make  no  public  mention  of  her 
services  as  nurse  to  Bowie  in  the  early  years. 
Long  after  the  Alamo  fell  feeling  between 
Americans  and  Mexicans  was  intensely  bit- 
ter. "Remember  the  Alamo!"  was  the  ter- 
rible cry  with  which  the  Texans  nerved 
themselves  to  slaughter  without  mercy  at 
San  Jacinto  and  on  other  battle  fields.  In 
later  times  there  have  been  sporadic  demon- 
strations of  this  feeling.  The  ashes  and  bones 
of  Travis,  Crockett,  Bowie  and  their  asso- 
ciates were  never  recovered.  A  few  years  ago 
an  attempt  was  made  to  find  some  relics  of 


-79- 


the  dead  and  to  do  them  honor.  There  was  a 
tradition  that  after  the  burning  of  the  bodies 
the  bones  had  been  scraped  up  and  deposited 
under  the  chancel  of  a  church.  Some  one 
went  to  the  priest  in  charge  and  asked  him  if 
he  knew  whether  the  heroes  of  the  Alamo  had 
been  thus  cared  for. 

"Heroes  of  the  Alamo!'*  was  the  scornful 
reply.  "There  were  no  'heroes  of  the  Al- 
amo.' They  were  thieves  and  robbers.  No, 
sir;  their  bones  are  not  under  the  chancel  of 
this  church.  If  they  were,  I  would  pay  to 
have  them  dug  up  and  thrown  into  the  street." 

Little  of  this  sentiment  remains  now.  But 
the  senora  had  good  reason  fifty-one  years 
ago  to  hide  her  identity  and  hold  her  tongue 
about  her  participation  in  the  last  scenes 
within  the  Alamo.  She  remembers  where  the 
funeral  pyre  was  built.  A  beautiful  little  park 
in  which  the  China  umbrella  trees  grow  with 
rare  luxuriance,  is  on  the  spot.  The  senora 
also  remembers  where  a  hole  "was  dug  into 
which  all  that  was  left  of  the  172  bodies,  after 
the  fire  had  burned  down,  was  thrown  in. 
And  that  burial  place  is  where  the  magnificent 
new  Federal  building  stands  fronting  the 
plaza  and  the  little  park.  Perhaps  after  all 
there  could  be  no  more  fitting  uses  made— a 
park  in  place  of  the  pyre;  that  which  stands 
for  the  embodiment  of  the  Republic  in  stone 
and  mortar,  where  the  bones  were  buried. 


The  Alamo  still  stands.  And  it  will  stand. 
Time  can  not  do  what  the  cannon  balls  of 
Santa  Anna  failed  to  accomplish.  The  Alamo 
was  nearly  a  hundred  years  old  when  the 
Mexicans  began  to  bombard  its  massive  walls 
on  the  22d  of  February,  1836.  The  cannon- 
ading continued  at  intervals  until  the  morn- 
ing of  the  6th  of  March,  and  then  the  assault 
was  made.  There  was  a  roof  on  the  church 
when  the  siege  began,  the  senora  says.  That 
was  destroyed.  The  pillars  and  the  begin- 
nings of  the  arches  are  seen  to-day.  In  one 
wall  is  a  great  crack.  In  many  places  the 
battering  effects  of  the  shots  can  be  seen,  but 
the  ruin  will  stand  for  centuries.  The  church 
was  one  of  the  Spanish  missions  established 
at  San  Antonio  nearly  200  years  ago.  This 
massive  masonry  must  have  taken  years  of  la- 
bor. In  the  carved  front  is  a  stone  with  the 
figure  1757,  and  that  is  supposed  to  be  the 
date  of  final  completion.  The  church  is  in 
the  form  of  a  cross.  On  one  side,  in  the 
corner,  with  a  high  barred  window  is  the 
room  where  Bowie  lay  on  his  cot.  Fur- 
ther back  a  passage  through  solid  masonry 
leads  to  an  iron  door  and  another  little  room, 
which  may  have  been  the  sacristy.  The 
blackened  i  Iche  in  one  side  shows  where 
candles  bun  ed  long  before  Tom  Rife  came  to 
keep  the  ke  /.  This  chamber  is  in  masonry. 
Walls  and  i'oof  are  inclosed  solidly,  save 
where  the  I  eavy  iron  door  gives  entrance. 
There  is  no  Window.  Here  the  Texans  kept 


their  ammunition  and  the  Mexicans  attempted 
in  vain  to  reach  it  with  their  cannon  balls. 
At  the  last  supreme  moment,  when  he  be- 
lieved all  had  fallen  but  himself,  Evans  tried 
to  fire  the  powder.  This  was  part  of  the  des- 
perate plan  of  Travis.  It  was  the  act  of  Sam- 
son pulling  down  the  temple.  Had  Evans 
succeeded,  his  act  would  have  crushed  be- 
neath the  falling  masonry  more  Mexicans  than 
were  killed  by  rifle  ball  and  bowie-knife.  But 


WHERE  BOWIE  DIED. 


the  striking  of  the  match  was  delayed  a  mo- 
ment too  long.  At  the  door  of  the  magazine, 
with  match  in  hand,  Evans  was  struck  down. 
What  a  culmination  that  would  have  been  to 
the  defense  of  the  Alamo! 

A  convent  was  part  of  the  Alamo  Mission. 
An  acequia,  or  irrigating  ditch,  to  supply 
water  to  the  mission  ran  through  the  grounds. 
It  furnished  water  to  Travis  and  the  little  gar- 
rison. Why  did  not  Santa  Anna  cut  the  ditch 
and  deprive  the  Americans  of  its  use  during 
the  siege?  That  is  one  of  the  questions  that 
has  puzzled  those  who  have  groped  for  the 
history  of  the  Alamo  defense.  Senora  Cande- 
laria  says  that  the  Americans  had  the  use  of 
the  water  during  the  siege.  The  reason  why 
the  ditch  was  not  cut,  she  says,  is  that  the 
Indians  at  the  mission  would  not  suffer  any 
interference  with  the  water  system.  '  There 
were  some  rights  of  the  native  population 
which  even  the  despot  hesitated  to  infringe. 

More  than  the  old  church  was  included  in 
the  defense.  A  stiong  wall  of  Masonry  in- 
closed a  space  nearly  200  feet  long  and  120 
feet  wide.  The  church  was  in  the  southwest 
corner  of  the  rectangle  and  was  the  head- 
quarters and  the  storehouse  for  the  garrison. 
A  passage  led  from  the  chancel  of  the  church 
into  the  yard.  Through  this  the  priests  were 
wont  to  come  from  their  convent  on  one  side  of 
the  yard  into  the  church  to  perform  their  re- 
ligious duties,  and  through  this  the  Texans 
fell  back  into  the  church  on  the  morning  of 
the  6th  of  March,  when  they  were  no  longer 
able  to  hold  the  whole  of  the  rectangle.  It 


-79- 


was  at  the  northeast  corner  of  the  inclosure, 
diagonally  across  the  yard  from  the  church, 
that  Castillon's  column  gained  the  first 
lodgment  on  the  wall.  The  Mexicans  swarmed 
up  the  ladders  at  that  point.  They  stood  upon 
each  other's  shoulders.  The  first  who  came 
were  shot  through  the  heads.  The  next  were 
clubbed  down  as  often  as  they  reached  the  top 
of  the  wall.  But  there  was  a  time  when  the 
heads  rose  faster  than  the  bullets  flew  and 
the  blows  fell.  The  Mexicans  stood  upon  the 
corner  of  the  wall,  too  numerous  to  be  beaten 
back.  Then  the  Texans  retired  through  the 
little  passage  into  the  church,  piled  bags  of 
sand  as  high  as  their  necks  and  made  the  last 
stand.  Even  when  the  Mexicans  forced  the 
outer  entrances  to  the  church,  there  was  no 
yielding.  When  all  of  the  defenders  were 
dead  below,  the  handful  of  Texans  left  stood 
upon  the  tower  and  fired  charge  after  charge 
"rom  a  little  cannon.  With  the  recklessness 


MISSION  CONCEPCIOX. 


of  men  who  have  shaken  hands  with  death 
these  cannoneers  shoved  into  the  piece  nails, 
bits  of  iron,  anything  which  would  carry  and 
wound.  The  little  band  could  not  be  dis- 
lodged from  below,  and  at  length  the  Mexi- 
cans covered  the  whole  eleven  with  one  of 
their  cannon,  fired  at  short  range  and  swept 
them  away.  It  is  tradition  based  upon  the 
versions  told  by  Mexican  soldiers  that  one 
man  was  found  alive  in  the  tower.  He  was 
driven  into  a  corner.  He  held  his  dripping 
bowie-knife  in  his  hand.  Nine  bodies  of  Mex- 
icans lay  at  his  feet.  He  parried  their  bayo- 
nets as  they  came  at  him  singly  and  struck 
them  down.  Three  or  four  faced  him  and 
made  a  simultaneous  rush.  Pierced  through 
and  through,  this  last  of  the  defenders  died. 
Which  one  of  the  172  he  was  tradition  does 
not  tell. 

Only  of  late  has  the  idea  of  preserving  this 
historical  landmark  occurred  to  Texas  with 
effective  force.  For  a  dozen  years  the  Alamo 
remained  as  it  had  fallen.  The  interior  was  half 
filled  with  the  debris  of  tlie  siege,  with  the 
ruins  of  the  roof  and  with  the  masonry  knocked 
off  the  walls  by  cannon  balls.  Then  the  United 


States  took  possession,  cleared  out  the  wreck, 
put  on  a  wooden  roof  and  used  the  church  as 
a  storehouse  for  quartermaster  stores.  Deep 
down  in  the  debris  were  uncovered  several 
skeletons  with  fur  caps  and  buckskin  trim- 
mings. No  one  need  to  ask  on  which  side  the 
owners  had  fought.  In  the  hasty  gathering  of 
the  dead  and  the  wholesale  cremation  these 
had  been  overlooked  by  the  victorious  Mexi- 
cans. For  thirty  years  the  Alamo  was  dese- 
crated; first  by  the  Federal  and  next  by  Con- 
federate and  then  by  Federal  authority  again. 
The  historic  place  was  devoted  to  the  housing 
of  hard-tack  and  bacon.  Texas  suddenly 
cwoke.  For  $20,000  the  title  to  the  cradle  of 
Texas  liberty  was  acquired  by  the  State.  The 
preservation  of  the  building  is  assured,  but 
the  quartermaster's  "improvements"  are 
still  in  place,  and  about  the  only  change  that 
has  been  made  since  the  hard-tack  and  bacon 
were  moved  out  has  been  the  location  of  a 
small  tin  box  which  dingy  lettering  says  is  to 
"  receive  contributions  for  the  erection  of  a 
monument  to  the  defenders  of  the  Alamo.' ' 

Butthe  AJamo  has  other  historical  interest. 
Spain  was  a  vigilant  mother  country  200 
years  ago.  She  wanted  the  earth.  She  had 
laid'hold  of  the  West  Indies,  of  Central  Amer- 
ica, of  Mexico.  And  then  she  sent  her  rep- 
resentatives to  occupy  Texas  and  claim  all 
to  the  eastward  as  far  as  the  Louisiana  pos- 
sessions of  France.  Spanish  aggression  al- 
ways moved  with  the  sword  in  one  hand  and 
the  cross  in  the  other.  And  the  sword  was 
oftener  in  the  right  hand  than  the  cross  was. 
At  San  Antonio,  Spain,  in  1715,  established 
with  troops  a  presidio  and  with  priests  a 
mission.  Troops  and  priests  traveled  to- 
gether. These  missions  were  queer  institu- 
tions. The  troops  brought  in  the  Indians. 
The  priests  converted  them.  It  mattered  not 
whether  the  Indian  was  willing.  His  soul 
must  be  saved.  He  was  locked  up  at  night. 
His  back  was  scourged.  And  when  conver- 
sion was  assured  the  Indian  was  set  to  work 
to  build  dams,  to  dig  acequias,  to  make  gar- 
dens and  vineyards.  He  quarried  the  stone, 
mixed  the  inortar  and  reared  the  massive 
walls  of  the  Alamo  and  of  the  four  other  mis- 
sions which  are  the  wonder  of  all  strangers 
who  visit  San  Antonio. 

"You  will  observe,"  said  Tom  Rife,  the 
Alamo  custodian,  "that  the  original  windows 
of  the  church  are  high  up  in  the  walls,  far 
above  your  head.  That  was  because  the 
priests  took  no  chances  with  the  Indians. 
They  didn't  want  to  be  hit  with  a  stray  arrow 
while  they  were  engaged  in  their  devotions. 
And  they  located  the  windows  so  high  that 
anything  coming  through  would  pass  over 
their  heads." 

The  priests  converted  the  Indians  and  made 
slaves  of  them,  but  they  were  carefu'  to  build 
convents  which  were  forts,  as  well  as 
churches,  which  would  stand  for  centuries. 


-60- 


In  the  case  of  one  of  the  missions  at  San  An- 
tonio, the  record  shows  that  the  building  was 
not  completed  until  twenty- one  years  after 
the  foundation  stone  was  laid.  Many  an  In- 
dian convert's  life  went  out  in  the  good  cause 
before  the  work  was  done.  Biding  up  the 
Aransas  Pass  Railroad  from  the  south  in  the 
early  evening  the  traveler  sees  a  strange 
contrast  just  before  reaching  the  out- 
skirts of  San  Antonio.  A  great 
four-story  building,  modern  in  all 
senses,  comes  into  view  on  the  right, 


of  the  arches,  the  cutting  of  queer  designs,  the 
font  set  into  the  wall.  The  roof  of  the  chapel 
is  of  stone  with  arches  and  a  central  dome.  It 
is  said  the  great  court-yard,  which  was  in- 
closed by  a  wall  of  masonry,  was  four  acres  in 
extent.  Outside  of  the  church  are  arches 
which  are  all  that  remain  to  show  the  cloisters 
and  cells  of  the  convent.  When  Santa  Anna 
approached  San  Antonio  he  expected  to  find 
the  Texans  fortified  in  this  Mission.  He  re- 
garded it  as  better  for  defense  than  the  Alamo. 
The  Alamo  and  the  Ooncepcion  churches  were 


THE   SENORA'S   HOME. 


every  window  ablaze  with  electric  light.  It  is 
one  of  the  charitable  institutions  which  Texas 
has  built  on  plans  as  liberal  as  her  prairies. 
The  asylum  comes  and  goes.  And  on  the  left 
there  appears,  in  the  moonlight,  rising  out  of 
the  mesquite  and  in  the  midst  of  tangled 
vines  and  brush  the  double  towers  of  the 
Mission  Concepcion.  Just  behind  the  towers 
is  the  Moorish  dome.  Humanity's  best  at 
the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  exempli- 
fied in  the  asylum.  Humanity's  best  as  it 
existed  150  years  ago  was  worked  out  in  the 
Mission.  The  ruin  is  well  preserved.  It  is 
even  habitable.  The  chapel  has  been  used  in 
recent  years  for  a  service  by  a  bishop  who 
venerates  the  past.  The  time  was  when  a 
court-yard  with  walls  of  masonry  inclosed 
buildings  for  school  and  military  purposes  as 
well  as  the  massive  church.  Now  all  has 
tumbled  down  except  the  church,  and  that  is 
in  the  brush  two  miles  from  San  Antonio. 
Twenty-one  years  was  none  too  long  for 
the  poor  Indians  to  complete  this  work  with  all 


almost  precisely  alike.  The  Alamo  had  the 
disadvantage  of  standing  where  other  build- 
ings enabled  the  attacking  party  to  approach 
it.  One  of  the  sallies  made  by  Travis  and  his 
men  was  for  the  purpose  of  tearing  down  some 
Mexican  houses  which  gave  cover  to  the 
enemy. 

Two  miles  below  the  Mission  Concepcion  is 
the  Mission  San  Jose.  These  thrifty  padres 
divided  the  land  and  the  waters  of  San  An- 
tonio very  well.  They  made  great  gardens 
with  their  convert  labor,  and  they  built  the 
missions  far  enough  apart  that  there  might  be 
no  clashing  of  interests.  There  was  competi- 
tion in  mission  building  just  as  there  is  in 
church  architecture  to-day.  At  Mission  Con- 
cepcion the  artists  with  the  brush  spread 
themselves  upon  frescoes  not  yet  entirely 
worn  away,  while  at  San  Jose  the  mallet  and 
chisel  were  used  upon  the  stone  in  the  most 
wonderful  manner.  On  the  front,  in  the  door- 
ways, over  the  windows,  wherever  it  was 


-81- 


possible  to  carve  a  figure,  that  was  done.  The 
Mission  San  Jose  has  a  single  tower,  but  it  is 
60  feet  high.  Hewn  logs  arranged  to  make  a 


stone  roof  over  the  main  chapel  held  in  place 
until  a  few  years  ago  and  went  down  with 
a  mighty  crash.  One  of  the  main  walls 


THE  PORTAL  OP  MISSION   SAX  JOSE. 


circular  stairway  lead  up  to  the  second  part 
of  the  tower.  Thence  to  the  lookout  the  as- 
cent is  by  notched  trunks  of  trees.  The  great 


has  fallen.  San  Jose  is  a  ruin,  truly.  And 
little  wonder.  Nearly  a  hundred  years  ago 
the  priests  concluded  that  missions  which 


-82- 


enforced  religion  were  a  failure.  The  Indian 
converts  had  dwindled  away.  At  San  Jose 
there  were  not  enough  left  to  do  the  house- 
work for  the  priests,  let  alone  mind  the 
ditches,  the  gardens,  the  vineyard  and  the 
church.  When  the  lands  of  the  Mission  Con- 
cepcion  were  ordered  partitioned  to  the  rem- 
nant of  the  community  which  had  been  estab- 
lished there,  only  thirty-eight  Indians— six- 
teen of  them  men,  the  rest  women  and  chil- 
dren—could be  found  to  inherit  the  property. 
The  Missions  taught  the  wonderful  fertility  of 
the  soil,  and  showed  to  the  white  men  who 
came  after  what  could  be  done  by  irrigation. 
They  furnished  the  Alamo  and  the  Alamo 
made  Texas.  But  as  religious  institutions  the 
Missions  were  failures. 


A  MISSION  INDIAN   FAMILY. 


It  is  history  that  the  artist  Huica  came  all 
of  the  way  from  Spain  to  do  the  finest  of 
chiseling  on  the  San  Jose  portal  and  windows. 
The  work  occupied  him  several  years.  Origin- 
ally there  were  six  life-size  statues  about  the 
doorway,  which  is  35  feet  high.  Some  of 
them  have  been  carried  off  by  vandals. 


About  two  miles  below  San  Jose  is  the  Mis- 
sion of  San  Juan.  It  is  very  plain,  having 
neither  the  frescoing  of  Concepcion  nor  the 
elaborate  carving  of  San  Jose.  On  one  side 
the  very  wide  wall  rises  high  above  what  \v  as 
the  roof,  and  has  places  for  bells.  Evidently 
the  San  Juan  fathers  had  different  ideas  from 
those  who  controlled  the  other  Missions.  They 
put  more  work  upon  the  granaries;  upon  the 
convent  or  monastery,  which  they  made  their 
home,  and  these  are  in  a  better  state  of 
preservation.  That  the  priests  at  San 
Juan  intended  to  build  a  finer  church,  is 
shown  by  the  foundation  walls  of  a  chapel  be- 
gun but  never  finished.  The  failure  of  the 
Mission  system  came  before  the  plans  were 
carried  out.  It  has  been  said  that  these  In- 
dians who  were  brought  in  by  the  troops  and 
turned  out  to  the  Missions  to  be  converted  be- 
came slaves.  Perhaps  that  is  incorrect.  It  is 


true  that  they  were  scourged  for  their  short- 
comings. At  night  the  young  men  were  locked 
in  rooms  on  one  side  of  the  great  court,  while 
the  young  women  were  safely  disposed  of  on 
the  other  side  of  the  square.  -All  arose  at  a 
given  time.  They  had  their  allotted  tasks. 
They  attended  to  their  religious  duties.  In 
short,  they  lived  such  lives  as  the  priests 
thought  best  for  their  souls.  But  in  a  way 
they  acquired  community  rights,  and  when 
the  Missions  went  down  the  lands  were  di- 
vided among  those  converts  who  remained 
faithful  and  whose  constitutions  had  been 
strong  enough  to  stand  the  regimen. 


In  passing  from  one  Mission  to  the  next  it  is 
necessary  each  time  to  cross  the  river.  The 
priests  located  the  Missions  on  alternate 
sides.  The  Mission  Espada— that  was  a  well- 
chosen  name— is  below  San  Juan  and  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river.  When  the  visitor 
reaches  Espada  he  is  nine  miles  from  the  city 
of  San  Antonio.  The  story  is  that  the  tower 
of  this  Mission,  carrying  out  the  idea  of  the 
name,  was  in  the  form  of  the  hilt  of  a  sword. 
Mission  Espada  has  been  restored.  Out  of  the 
ruins  of  the  convent  has  been  constructed  a 
parochial  residence.  So  much  of  the  chapel 
has  been  rebuilt  that  it  has  lost  its  interest  as 
a  ruin.  The  walls  of  the  great  court  still  show 
how  well  prepared  these  communities 
were  for  defense  against  any  foe  without.  At 
one  angle  is  a  round  tower.  It  has  in- 
dressed  stone  portholes  for  cannon,  and 
above  are  openings  for  musket  use. 
Loopholes  were  pierced  in  the  walls 
at  frequent  intervals.  There  was  need 
of  such  provision,  for  the  Apaches  often  re- 
sented the  presence  of  these  communities. 
Fifty  miles  to  the  northwestward  of  San  An- 


MISSION  SAN    JUAN. 


tonio  at  the  Pass  of  Bandera  the  tribe  had  its 
stronghold.  From  the  mountains,  the 
Apaches  swept  down  upon  the  Missions  again 
and  again.  Sometimes  they  caught  a  few  of 
the  converts  unawares.  Occasionally  they 
captured  stock,  but  usually  they  found  the 
watchman  on  duty  in  the  church  towers  and 
the  ramparts  well  manned  by  the  whole  effect- 
ive force  of  the  community. 

The  work  of  the  priests  reached  high- water 
mark  when  the  five  Missions  at  San  Antonio 


-88- 


embraced  750  converts.  After  that  it  went 
down.  Fifty  years  before  Travis  and  his  men 
occupied  it,  the  Alamo  had  ceased  to  be  a  place 
ior  the  reception  and  conversion  of  cap- 
tured Indians.  Convent  and  court  had 
been  turned  into  a  barracks  for  troops. 
The  church  and  its  surroundings  had 
came  to  be  recognized  as  the  military  key  to 
San  Antonio.  Around  the  Alamo,  upon  the 
plazas  and  along  the  streets  there  were  many 
terrific  contests  and  bloody  scenes  in  the  fifty 
years  which  preceded  the  battle  of  1836. 
The  followers  of  Philip  Nolan,  after  their 
leader  had  been  treacherously  murdered  by 
Spanish  soldiers,  were  brought  to  San  Anto- 
nio in  1800  and  shut  up  in  prison,  into  which 
part  of  the  Alamo  Mission  had  been  turned. 


OLD  WINDOW,    MISSION  SAN  JOSE. 

From  the  Alamo  marched  forth  the  soldiers  of 
Spain  to  hold  back  the  Americans  on  the 
border.  In  1811  the  people  passing  the  Alamo 
early  in  the  morning  saw  between  that  and 
the  main  plaza  a  head  on  a  pole.  Col.  Del- 
gado,  a  flying  revolutionist,  had  been  cap- 
tured and  this  was  the  warning  to  other 
would-be  revolutionists.  Gutierrez  an  asso- 
ciate of  Delgado,  escaped  to  the  Louisiana 
border,  joined  a  party  of  Americans  led  by 
Magee,  an  officer  of  the  United  States  army, 
and  came  marching  back.  Americans,  Mexican 
Republicans  and  Indians  flocked  to  the  stand- 
ard and  a  small  army  appeared  before  San 
Antonio. '  ^.The  Spanish  troops  marched  out 
from  the  Alamo  to  meet  this  motley  crowd, 
and  a  thousand  of  them  fell  in  the  rout.  The 
Governor  of  the  province  of  Texas  surren- 


dered, and  with  him  the  Governor  of  New 
Leon  and  other  distinguished  officers.  All 
were  turned  over  to  a  son  of  the  Delgado 
whose  head  had  ornamented  the  pole  in  front 
of  the  Alamo.  The  younger  Delgado  started 
with  the  prisoners,  ostensibly  to  go  to  the 
Gulf  and  send  them  to  New  Orleans.  A  mile 
and  a  half  out  of  San  Antonio  the  prisoners 
were  stripped  and  butchered  with  knives. 
After  that  there  was  anarchy  in  San  Antonio. 
The  Mexican  Royalist  Government  sent  an 
army  of  3000,  under  Elisondo,  to  retake  the 
Alamo  and  to  suppress  the  Republican  upris- 
ing. Elisondo  captured  the  horses  of  the 
Americans  and  reached  the  suburbs  of  San 
Antonio  before  his  movement  was  discovered. 
But  in  the  night  the  Americans  marched  out 
on  foot  and  charged  the  Mexican  army  at 
dawn.  With  the  loss  of  1000  killed,  wounded 
and  prisoners,  Elisondo  was  put  to  flight. 

Then  a  provisional  Government  was  set  up  in 
San  Antonio  and  some  degree  of  law  and 
order  was  established..  Arredondo  came  with 
4000  men  to  do  what  Elisondo  had  failed  to 
accomplish.  The  Americans  and  the  Mexican 
Republicans  calling  themselves  "the  Repub- 
lican Army  of  the  North,"  marched  out  from 
the  Alamo  and  fell  into  much  the  same  kind 
of  a  trap  they  had  set  for  Elisondo.  -This 
time  the  Mexican  Royalists  were  victorious. 
Eighty  of  the  prisoners  were  seated  by  tens  on 
a  log  over  a  great  grave  and  shot  so  that  the 
bodies  fell  in  a  heap.  Arredondo  marched 
into  San  Antonio  and  threw  700  citizens  into 
the  prison  for  their  supposed  Republican 
sympathies.  Eighteen  of  the  prisoners  were 
suffocated  in  a  single  night.  Five  hundred 
women  of  San  Antonio  were  shut  up 
in  a  building  and  forced  to  turn  twenty- 
five  bushels  of  corn  into  tortillas  for 
the  Royalist  army  every  day.  Thus 
until  1820  did  San  Antonio  reap  the  whirl- 
wind, and  the  Alamo,  as  fortress  and  prison, 
grew  in  historical  interest.  That  year 
came  Moses  Austin  from  Connecticut  with  a 
proposition  to  bring  a  colony  of  Americans. 
He  died,  and  his  son,  Stephen  F.  Austin,  took 
up  the  project.  In  spite  of  imprisonment  and 
killing,  Americans  kept  coming.  In  1831  the 
Bowies  were  here  and  the  two  brothers,  with 
nine  associates,  fought  184  Indians  until  they 
had  killed  and  wounded  eighty- four,  losing 
but  one  of  their  own  number  and  having  three 
wounded.  The  next  year  appeared  in  San 
Antonio  Sam  Houston.  Then  the  Americans 
organized.  A  thousand  of  them  joined  Austin. 
Other  leaders  had  smaller  followings.  With- 
out much  generalship  they  gathered  about 
San  Antonio.  Some  were  for  attacking  the 
Mexican  General  and  his  force  which  held  the 
Alamo  and  the  city.  Others  hesitated  about 
open  hostilities.  Three  hundred  volunteered 
to  "go  with  Ben  Milam  into  San  Antonio," 
and  in  they  went.  It  took  four  days  of  fight- 
ing to  reach  the  Alamo.  From  house  to  house 


-84- 


the  Mexicans  fell  back,  and  from  house  to 
house  the  Americans  advanced.  Street  after 
street  was  taken,  until  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  day  the  Alamo  was  reached.  The 
Mexican  General  surrendered  and  with  his 
troops  was  allowed  to  march  away  on  parole. 
This  left  San  Antonio  in  possession  of  the 
Americans  for  a  few  months.  And  the  next 
and  greatest  step  toward  Texan  independ- 
ence was  the  fight  at  the  Alamo.  The  story  of 
which,  from  the  only  survivor's  lips,  has 
been  told.  W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


The   Great   Cash   Crop  Which  Means 
Many  Dollars  Per  Capita. 


A  King's  Good  Points— Proper  Limita- 
tions   on    Monarchy— The    Dublin 
Idea  of  Home   Rule— Casting 
the  Horoscope— A  Coming 
Five-Cent  Basis. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

DUBLIN,  TEX.,  September  8. — Two  months 
ago  Texas  began  to  report ' '  first  bales.' '  But 
Texas  has  much  latitude.  It  is  weeks  after 
the  beginning  before  the  cotton  picking  is 
fairly  under  way.  From  Houston  across  to 


chimneys  of  the  gin  houses  are  smoking. 
Around  the  cotton  yards  the  barbed  wire  has 
been  tightened  on  the  posts  and  the  bales  are 
accumulating.  Gin  whistles  toot  a  shrill  and 
cheerful  salute  as  the  trains  go  by.  This  is 
Southern  Texas.  Every  railroad  station  is 
beginning  to  ship.  The  cotton  platforms  are 
already  covered  with  the  early  consignments. 
Samplers  are  going  about,  plucking  out  great 
wads  of  the  staple  here  and  tucking  it  back 
there.  The  scales  and  the  marking-pot  are 
busy.  Empty  box  cars  are  being  strung  along 
the  sidings.  The  new  crop  is  moving— not  as 
it  will  a  month  later,  but  sufficiently  strong 
to  make  the  transportation  companies  feel  the 
impetus, 

Middle  Texas  shows  some  picking  in  the 
earlier  fields,  and  the  prudent  planter  is  cull- 
ing out  the  already  ripened  bottom  bolls.  The 
top  crop  is  not  yet  ready.  Around  the  gin 
houses  groups  of  men  are  busy  putting  in 
bracing  posts,  supplying  missing  planks,  fix- 
ing up  the  engines  and  overhauling  the  ma- 
chinery. The  season  is  close  at  hand  for  Mid- 
dle Texas.  Further  north  there  is  similar 
stir,  not  quite  so  advanced,  however.  On  Red 
River  the  top  cotton  is  yet  in  blossom,  but 
everybody  is  getting  ready.  The  master  of 
transportation  is  out  on  the  railroad.  He  is 
the  first  one  to  hop  off  and  the  last  one  to 
climb  on  the  train.  He  holds  hurried  consul- 
tations with  station  agents,  asks  when  Smith 
will  begin  to  ship  and  whether  Jones  has 
given  notice  how  soon  he  will  want  to  load 


AT  THE   COMPRESS    IN   WACO. 


"  San  tone"  by  the  Mission  route  the  fields 
are  white.  Far  down  the  rows  the  pickers  are 
bending  over  big  baskets.  In  snowy  mounds, 
here  and  there,  the  seed  cotton  is  heaped  up, 
waiting  for  the  wagon.  Along  the  country 
roads  go  great  loads  to  be  "ginned."  At 
every  town  and  cross-roads  settlement  the 


cars.  He  looks  over  the  cotton  platforms, 
with  which  every  railroad  station  in  the  cot- 
ton belt  is  equipped,  sees  that  planks  are  in 
place  and  that  supports  are  strong.  Then  he 
moves  on  to  the  next  station,  to  repeat  ques- 
tions and  observation  and  to  make  more 
entries  in  his  note  book. 


-85- 


What  a  stimulus  it  is!  Everybody  and  every- 
thing in  Texas  feels  it.  Two  million  bales. 
A  hundred  million  dollars!  Cash,  too!  Cash, 
which  begins  to  flow  the  moment  the  first 
picker  steps  into  the  field,  and  cash  which 
keeps  circulating  as  the  seed  cotton  goes  to 
the  gin,  as  the  bale  goes  to  the  merchant  and 
the  seed  to  the  mill,  and  finally,  as  the  staple 
and  oil  and  meal  find  their  way  through  the 
factor  to  the  markets  of  the  world. 

"Raise  less  cotton  and  more  corn,"  the 
economist  cries.  That  is  very  good  advice,  to 


This  year's  crop  was  put  in  on  a  strong  prob- 
ability that  it  would  not  command  more  than 
6c.  It  will  not  be  quite  so  large  as  last  year's, 
which  was  phenomenal  in  both  acreage  and 
yield.  But  it  will  be  large  enough.  That  is 
apparent  already.  The  acreage  is  somewhat 
smaller  than  last  year,  perhaps  about  15  per 
cent  less.  That  is  the  estimate  of  some  of  the 
largest  cotton  handlers  in  the  State.  But  they 
all  admit  that  the  reduction  is  not  what  it 
ought  to  be  to  restore  prices. 
"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Wolfsohn,  of  the  Dallas 


A  COTTON  YARD   AT   BROWNWOOD. 


a  limited  extent.  But  corn  may  be  15c  or  it 
may  be  50c  a  bushel.  Cotton  may  drop  to  6c 
or  it  may  bring  8c.  Corn  may  be  hard  to  sell 
at  any  price.  Cotton  will  always  bring  ready 
money,  even  in  advance,  when  it  can  be  seen 
in  the  boll.  Cotton  pays  the  taxes  and  buys 
the  sugar  and  coffee.  It  means  new  dresses 
and— most  fascinating  of  arguments  to  the 
Texan — it  means  more  land. 

Hope  rises  and  falls  in  Texas  with  the  cotton 
prospects.  The  temper  of  a  whole  State  is 
strung  high  as  the  crop  nears  maturity.  Each 
turn  in  the  weather  is  studied  anxiously  for 
its  effect  on  the  plant.  And  when  the  new 
crop  is  assured  the  strain  is  relieved  and  the 
whole  State  is  happy. 


The  Texas  farmer  has  yet  to  discover  how 
cheaply  he  can  raise  cotton  and  live.  When 
the  price  was  9c  he  kicked  and  said  it  was 
bankruptcy.  At  8c  and  7c  he  proclaimed  that 
he  was  being  ruined,  but  kept  on  planting. 


Board  of  Trade,  "  cotton  is  the  cash  crop.  If 
a  farmer  has  got  twenty-five  bales  of  cotton 
maturing  he  can  get  a  loan  on  it  at  any  time. 
It  is  the  best  collateral  that  there  is.  The 
merchant  can  go  to  the  wholesale  man  and 
show  he  has  liens  on  200  bales  of  cotton  and 
get  anything  he  wants.  Cotton  is  collateral 
while  it  is  growing;  it  is  cash  when  it  is 
picked.  And  while  this  is  so  there  isn't  much 
use  trying  to  persuade  a  man  to  raise  less  cot- 
ton. My  impression  is  that  most  of  the  argu- 
ments used  last  spring  to  induce  farmers  to 
cut  down  their  cotton  acreage  were  wasted.  I 
think  the  Texas  cotton  crop  is  nearly  as  large 
this  year  as  last.' ' 

An  old  cotton  buyer  who  had  dropped  into 
the  Board  of  Trade  by  accident  and  had  heard 
Mr.  Wolfsohn,  took  up  the  conversation:  "I 
have  seen  50,000  bales  of  cotton  handled  in 
Dallas,"  he  said.  "I  have  handled  250 bales 
in  a  day  myself.  The  trouble  has  been  to 
make  the  Texas  farmer  understand  that  he 


-80- 


musn't  buy  corn.  I  have  seen  the  Texas 
farmer  raise  cotton  and  buy  all  of  his  corn  at 
18c  a  bushel  one  year  and  at  $1  a  bushel 
the  next  year.  It  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't 
learn  anything.  I  said  to  one  of  the  big- 
gest cotton-raisers,  '  Have  you  any  idea 
how  much  Texas  will  pay  to  Kansas  for 
corn  this  year?'  He  said,  '  I  suppose  about 
$10,000.'  I  said,  'By  Jupiter,  $2,000,000  won't 
meet  it.'  And  yet  the  average  Texas  farmer 
would  go  along  living  on  turnip  tops  and 
half  starving  until  he  could  make  the  cot- 
ton crop,  get  a  bale  ready  for  market,  rush 
into  town  with  it  and  buy  some  side  meat. 
I  said  to  my  cotton- growing  friend,  'Per- 
haps you  know  what  Texas  will  pay  to  Kan- 
sas this  year  for  hog  meat?'  He  said  '  mebbe 
as  much  as  $50,000.'  I  said,  '  Over  $2,000,000; 
and  yet  you  fellows  go  on  raising  all  cot- 


oats.  The  one-crop  idea  has  given  place  to 
variety.  Blooded  stock  has  been  added. 
The  bunches  of  cattle  in  the  pastures  have 
short  horns,  straight  backs  and  massive 
shoulders.  Naturally  one  is  not  surprised 
to  find  backed  up  by  such  a  country  an  all- 
around  little  city.  Dublin,  almost  new 
except  the  name,  has  street  cars,  electric 
lights,  paved  thoroughfares  and  a  general 
look  of  prosperity.  Her  banker  is  from 
Maine.  Her  Mayor  is  a  one-armed  Arkansas 
Confederate  who  came  in  by  ox  train.  Her 
chief  business  man  and  capitalist  is  from 
Elgin,  111.  They  all  pull  together  and  the 
whole  city  pulls  with  them.  Dublin  has  com- 
press and  oil  mill  for  her  cotton  and  seed,  a 
tannery  for  her  hides,  elevators  and  mills  for 
small  grain,  and  has  just  sent  a  delegation  to 
Kansas  to  buy  hogs  by  the  car-load  to  eat 


SHIPPING    OUT   COTTON    FROM    DUBLIN. 


ton  and  no  corn  and  meat.'  Well,  things 
have  gradually  changed.  To-day  the  Texas 
farmer  is  better  off  than  he  has  been  for 
seventeen  years,  in  spite  of  the  low  price  of 
cotton." 

Southwest  from  Fort  Worth  there  is  inter- 
esting evidence  of  the  change  the  old  cotton- 
buyer  speaks  about.  Spinning  the  web  of 
railroads,  with  herself  in  the  spider's  point 
of  vantage,  "  the  Fort' '  discovered  two  or 
three  years  ago  that  there  was  no  southwest- 
ern radius  to  her  network.  A  beginning  was 
made.  The  Havemeyers,  or  some  other  mys- 
terious New  York  influence,  backed  the  en- 
terprise. And  now  there  are  120  miles  of  road 
in  operation,  stretching  over  prairies,  through 
cross-timbers,  by  mountain  gaps,  from  Fort 
Worth  toward  the  Eio  Grande.  Dublin  is 
brought  into  prominence  by  this  develop- 
ment.* And  all  of  the  way  down  to  Dublin 
can  be  seen  the  new  kind  of  farming  in  Texas. 
Every  farmer  has  a  patch  of  cotton,  but  every 
farmer  has  with  the  cotton  a  patch  of  corn. 
Often  the  corn  patch  is  larger  than  the  cot- 
toe  patch.  Wheat  fields  alternate  with 


her  surplus  corn  crop.  The  point  to  all  of 
this  is  that  diversified  farming  and  diversified 
industry  is  the  making  of  a  model  city  in 
Texas.  Until  Dublin  struck  her  steam-engine 
gait  she  had  a  struggle  for  existence  which 
would  have  knocked  out  the  average  Texas 
town  site. 

The  old  stage  trail  from  Fort  Worth  to  Fort 
Yuma  bowed  down  to  the  south  and  ran 
through  this  part  of  Texas.  Perhaps  because 
of  a  rocky  road  one  of  the  stations  on  the 
trail  was  given  the  name  of  Dublin.  Off  to 
the  left  of  the  old  trail  looms  Comanche  Peak. 
From  the  summit  can  be  seen  ten  counties  of 
Texas.  When  the  first  railroad  was  built 
through  this  region  and  the  stages  stopped 
running,  an  attempt  was  made  to  obliterate 
Dublin.  Another  town  ten  miles  away  was 
started,  the  usual  sale  of  lots  was  held  and  a 
depot  was  located.  Dublin  hung  on  to  her 
autonomy.  The  old  stage  station  wore  out, 
the  new  town  site  got  two  railroads  instead  of 
one,  and  has  become  a  city  which  can  give 
pointers  in  thrift  and  public  spirit  to  half  of 
the  communities  in  Texas. 


-87- 


The  Dublin  object  lesson  has  a  close  rela- 
tionship to  the  problem  of  how  cheaply  cot- 
ton can  be  grown  in  Texas.  It  proves  that  6- 
cent  cotton  is  better  when  mixed  with  wheat, 
and  oats,  and  corn,  a  lew  pigs  and  a  bunch  of 
good  stock,  than  9-cent  cotton  with  all  of  the 
supplies  to  be  shipped  in  and  paid  for  out  of 
the  cotton  receipts.  This  is  what  Dublin  and 
the  country  around  about  have  demonstrated. 


As  a  rule  Texas  farmers  do  not  figure  much, 
except  on  politics  and  dominoes.  They  can 
tell  you  the  Democratic,  Republican  and  Pop- 
ulist vote  by  township,  county  or  congres- 
sional district  at  the  last  election.  They  can 


tonio,  or  $155.  His  book  showed  that  the 
labor — from  breaking  of  ground  to  marketing, 
the  cost  of  seed  and  all  other  claims  which 
could  go  into  the  expense  account— amounted 
to  just  half  what  he  received  for  the  cotton. 
The  man  and  his  boy  did  all  of  the  "tend- 
ing." Their  work  was  put  in  at  a  fair  esti- 
mate. The  actual  cost  of  raising  the  cotton 
was  3%c  per  pound.  The  profit,  which  em- 
braced also  interest  on  the  land  investment, 
was  $19.32%  per  bale,  or  about  $11  per  acre. 
And  yet,  almost  with  one  voice,  the  farmers 
of  Texas  claim  that  anything  less  than  7c  for 
cotton  means  actual  loss.  The  experience  of 
the  Aransas  Pass  man  may  be  exceptional. 


SCENE    AT  WEATHERFORD. 


work  off  the  ivory  doubles  and  singles  with 
great  facility  on  the  round  table  in  the  back 
part  of  the  store.  But  when  it  comes  to  a 
show-down  on  the  number  of  pounds  of  cot- 
ton in  their  last  year's  crop,  the  exact  amount 
of  land  in  plant,  and  the  record  of  the  days 
of  labor  devoted  to  it,  not  one  of  them  in  a 
thousand  can  give  anything  definite.  And  so 
it  is  very  difficult  to  get  testimony  on  how 
cheaply  cotton  can  be  raised  in  Texas.  Down 
on  the  Aransas  Pass  road  last  year  one  cotton- 
raiser  did  what  every  farmer  ought  to  do.  He 
kept  books  on  his  crop.  He  had  seven  acres 
in  cotton  besides  his  grain  and  other  things. 
He  kept  a  strict  account  on  the  cotton 
just  to  see  what  it  actually  cost  him.  The 
seven  acres  produced  2,000  pounds  of  lint 
cotton.  He  got  7%c  a  pound  in  San  Au- 


It  is  possible  that  he  hoed  cotton  more  and 
played  dominoes  less  than  the  average  farm- 
er. The  actual  cost  of  raising  cotton  may  be 
a  great  deal  more  than  3%c  a  pound.  The 
farmers  of  Texas  owe  it  to  themselves  to  emu- 
late the  example  of  the  Aransas  Pass  man  to 
the  extent  of  keeping  a  strict  expense  account 
on  the  cotton  crop  and  solving  the  problem  of 
cost.  Then  they  will  be  able  to  grumble  upon 
a  definite  basis.  Politics  is  pastime.  Agri- 
culture is  business. 

Not  one  farmer  in  a  hundred  will  admit  it, 
but  there  is  probably  a  profit  in  raising  cot- 
ton in  Texas  at  5c  a  pound.  This  does  not 
imply  going  to  Kansas  for  bread  and  meat. 
It  does  imply  honest  labor  and  good  manage- 
ment. An  all-day  ride  on  an  August  Satur- 
day across  Southern  Texas,  from  Houston  to 


San  Antonio,  revealed  a  rather  astonishing 
situation.  The  towns  in  the  famous  Brazos 
country,  "the  black  belt,"  were  full  of  col- 
ored people.  Mules  by  the  hundreds  were 
hitched  to  the  railings  in  front  of  the  stores 
and  fringed  the  fences.  Under  the  oaks,  with 
their  beautiful  Spanish  moss  drapery,  were 
refreshment  stands.  The  smell  of  barbecued 
meat  was  wafted  through  the  car  window. 
Colored  folks,  big  and  little,  were  scattered 
about  in  groups.  •  They  came  down  to  the  sta- 
tions and  filled  the  platforms,  returning  the 
looks  of  curiosity  with  interest. 

"  There  must  be  a  good  deal  of  politics  down 
here."  was  suggested  to  a  fellow-passenger 
who  seemed  familiar  with  the  locality. 


In  Galveston  men  live  by  cotton,  but  plant 
not,  neither  do  they  pick.  These  entertain  au 
interesting  theory  about  the  future  of  the 
king  of  crops.  Texas,  they  say,  now  grows 
one-fourth  of  the  cotton  produced  in  the 
United  States.  Cotton  is  raised  at  less  cost 
here  than  anywhere  else  in  the  country.  The 
figures  which  represent  actual  cost  of  produc- 
tion in  other  States  have  no  application  here. 
And  when  the  minimum  at  which  other  sec- 
tions can  grow  is  reached,  Texas  will  have  a 
margin  of  profit  to  her  credit.  Production 
may  be  reduced;  it  will  be  reduced,  but 
not  in  Texas.  The  hill  country  of  the  older 
States  will  have  to  find  a  substitute  crop  or 
starve.  Texas  will  go  on  heaping  up  the  bales. 


BRINGING  COTTON  INTO  DUBLIN. 


"Oh  no,"  he  said;  "this  is  the  regular 
thing.  The  niggers  don't  work  on  Saturday. 
They  take  that  day  to  come  to  town  and  have 
a  good  time.  Then  they  go  to  church  on  Sun- 
day. You  just  watch  the  fields  as  you  ride 
along,  and  you'll  see  there  is  nobody  working 
in  the  black  belt  to-day.' ' 

It  was  so.  The  cotton  was  white.  The 
empty  baskets  were  scattered  along  at  the 
ends  of  the  rows.  By  the  difference  in  color 
the  line  where  the  picking  stopped  the  night 
before  could  be  traced  all  of  the  way  across 
the  field.  But  in  sixty  miles  there  were  not 
sixty  pickers  in  sight. 

If  cotton  gets  down  to  5c  it  may  be  nec- 
essary to  work  six  days  in  the  week.  But  at 
present  prices  there  are  no  evidences  that 
Texas  is  cotton-cursed.  The  latest  returns  at 
the  office  of  the  State  Bureau  of  Agriculture  in 
Austin  show  that,  notwithstanding  the  depres- 
sion, cotton  throughout  all  Texas,  well  tilled 
and  neglected,  on  good  land  and  poor,  yielded 
an  average  of  $16.64  per  acre.  And  that  was  $4 
an  acre  better  than  the  average  of  all  other 
products. 


She  grows  a  fourth,  more  than  a  fourth,  of  the 
entire  crop.  Soon  she  will  be  making  a  third 
of  this  country's  cotton.  She  has  the  land  to 
raise  the  cotton  crop  of  the  world ,  and  enough 
would  be  left  to  grow  food  for  twenty-five 
times  her  present  population.  Thus  the  men 
to  whom  cotton  means  commissions  theorize. 
They  do  not  look  for  any  permanent  return 
to  higher  prices.  The  tendency  is  downward, 
as  it  has  been.  Cheap  prices  last  year  may 
shorten  the  crop  this  year  and  stiffen  figures  a 
little.  Next  year  or  the  year  after,  under  the 
stimulus  of  better  prices,  there  will  be  more 
cotton  raised,  and  then  prices  will  drop  to  a 
lower  notch  than  ever.  In  the  older  States, 
these  cotton  men  predict,  there  will  be  a 
fluctuation  in  the  product  following  the  fluc- 
tuation in  prices.  But  the  tendency  will  be 
toward  lower  prices  everywhere  and  toward 
less  acreage  everywhere  save  in  Texas. 
Here  the  production  may  not  increase 
in  times  of  depression,  but  it  will  not 
decrease.  It  may  come  to  a  standstill  some 
years;  then  it  will  go  forward.  And  grad- 
ually, after  much  seesawing,  Texas  will 


become  the  great  cotton  producing  center 
of  the  world.  In  Texas  the  general  tendency 
is  toward  increased  production.  Out  of 
Texas  the  general  inclination  is  toward 
decreased  acreage.  As  for  prices,  the  cotton 


about  overproduction,  the  amount  in  cotton 
was  reduced  a  little.  At  least  that  is  what  the 
State  Commissioner  thinks.  The  amount  of 
reduction,  however,  is  not  quite  what  the 
increase  of  last  year  was. 


GINNING   AT    LEXINGTON. 


men  who  dwell  in  the  cities,  with  a  few  ex- 
ceptions, expect  to  see  5c  cotton  without 
any  panic.  This,  they  say,  is  the  logic  of 
the  situation.  And,  99  out  of  100  farm- 
ers to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  the 
middleman  holds  that  5c  cotton  can'be  grown 
with  profit  in  Texas. 

It  is  a  fact  that  in  the  face  of  steadily  de- 
clining prices  Texas  has  just  as  steadily 
added  to  her  cotton  product  until  this  year. 
This  is  shown  by  the  State  Bureau  of  Agri- 


PICKING  COTTON  NEAR  CUERO. 


culture.  Five  years  ago  the  Texas  cotton 
crop  was  raised  upon  3,000,000  acres  of  land. 
Every  year  since  then  the  farmers  have  added 
from  200,000  to  250,000  acres  to  the  total. 
Two  years  ago  the  crop  just  turned  the  4,000,- 
000  acres.  Last  year  the  acreage  took  the 
usual  jump  and  a  little  more.  The  increase 
was  about  300,000  acres.  This  year,  under 
the  hue  and  cry  raised  early  in  the  season 


The  land  in  Texas  devoted  to  cotton  is  ap- 
proaching 5,000,000  acres.  It  is  claimed  by 
the  State  bureau  that  there  are  within  the  lim- 
its of  Texas  175,000,000  acres  adapted  to  cot- 
ton culture.  In  the  enormous  proportions  of 
the  staple,  transactions  in  a  side  product  are 
sometimes  lost  sight  of.  It  is  the  rapidly 
fluctuating  industry  of  cotton-seed  oil  and 
meal.  Last  year  was  one  of  the  good 
years  in  the  cotton- seed  business.  Europe 
needed  and  took  all  of  the  cotton-seed  meal 
and  cake  there  was  to  sell,  for  stock  feeding. 
At  Waxahachie,  an  hour's  ride  southwest  of 
Dallas,  in  the  heart  of  "the  black  lands," 
the  cotton-seed  mill  is  said  to  have  cleared 
50  per  cent  on  the  investment.  This  year 
new  mills  are  being  built  in  Texas  and  old 
ones  are  being  enlarged.  The  business  may 
be  overdone.  But  taking  one  year  with 
another,  the  oil  and  meal  and  cake  adds  more 
than  $30,000,000  to  the  value  of  the  Texas 
cotton  crop. 

This  Waxahachie  to  which  reference  is 
made  above,  is  a  wonder  in  its  way.  It  is  the 
largest  cotton  market  for  its  population  in 
the  world.  The  little  city  has  about  4,000 
people.  Last  season  it  handled  32,000  bales 
of  cotton,  eight  bales  for  each  man,  woman 
and  child. 

The  time  was  when  planters  were  bothered 
to  know  how  to  get  rid  of  their  seed.  They 
let  it  accumulate  in  great  heaps  around  the 
gin  house  until  they  were  in  the  predicament 
of  the  Kansas  farmer— he  found  it  cheaper  to 
move  his  barn  than  to  haul  off  the  manure. 
Now  cotton- seed  is  worth  all  of  the  way  from 


-90- 


$5  to  $10  a  ton,  dependent  upon  the  distance 
from  the  nearest  mill.  Agents  for  the  mills 
travel  through  the  State,  gathering  up  all  of 
the  seed  near  enough  to  the  railroad  to  pay 
for  hauling.  A  ton  of  cotton-seed  yields 
thirty -five  gallons  of  oil.  This  oil  goes  in 
casks  to  the  Mediterranean,  and,  in  due 
course  of  time  and  trade,  returns  to  the 
United  States  refined  and  in  small  bottles, 
with  a  foreign  label  which  means  "pure  olive 
oil."  Lard-packers  use  cotton-seed  oil  by 
the  ton.  The  soap-makers  sell  it  in  the  form 
of  fine  soap  Lower  grades  go  into  tallow. 
The  meal  and  the  pressed  cake  are  sent  abroad 
to  stimulate  milk-giving  in  the  English  and 
European  dairies.  The  hulls  left  from  the 
grinding  feed  the  furnaces  of  the  mills,  and 
the  ashes  from  the  hulls  are  bleached  for  lye. 
Cotton- raising  as  an  industry  has  many  sides 
to  it.  But  from  whatever  point  the  view  is 
taken,  Texas  has  the  best  of  the  outlook. 

W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 

A  Visit  to  the  Largest  Pecan  Planta- 
tion in  the  World, 


Mr.  Swinden's  Provision  for  Posterity- 

The  Natural  Home  of  the  Dessert  Nut 

—An  Oil  Boom  that  Collapsed— 

Evolution  Along  the  Concho. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

BROWNWOOD,  TEX.,  September  14.— Away 
to  the  southwest  of  Fort  Worth  and  Dallas, 
far  beyond  the  Brazos,  is  a  new  kind  of  Texas. 
It  has  mountain  peaks,  great  boiling  springs 


day,  in  some  part  of  Pennsylvania  or  Ken- 
tucky. He  would  never  think  of  calling  this 
Texas;  there  is  no  other  part  of  Texas  that  re- 
sembles it.  Two  or  three  railroads  have  wan- 
dered out  into  this  region  and  stopped.  It 
took  a  good  deal  of  coaxing  to  bring  them. 
One  town  put  up  $25,000  and  right-of-way  as 
an  inducement.  The  railroad  built  to  that 
town  and  stopped.  Then  the  next  town  raised 
$30,000  and  more  right-of-way.  The  railroad 
built  to  it.  Thus,  by  alternate  bidding  and 
building,  two  railroads  were  "toled"  out  into 
this  unknown  country  from  130  to  200  miles 
from  their  connections. 

The  largest  pecan  plantation  in  the  world 
comes  up  to  the  suburbs  of  Brownwood.  It  is 
the  ambition  of  every  Texas  city  to  have  some- 
thing that  no  other  city  possesses.  Brown- 
wood  puts  her  best  foot  forward  in  a  pecan 
orchard  without  a  parallel.  This  is  natural 
pecan  country.  From  San  Antonio  northward 
through  Brownwood  and  Santa  Anna  and 
Coleman  and  San  Angelo,  all  of  the  way  to 
Abilene,  are  groves  of  pecans.  Every 
water-course  has  its  fringe.  When  the  first 
settlers  came  in  there  were  twice  as  many 
pecans  as  there  are  now.  But  pecan  wood  is 
almost  as  good  as  its  first  cousin,  the  shell- 
bark  hickory.  Before  they  discovered  what  a 
golden  layer  the  goose  was,  the  settlers  had 
cut  down  the  productive  capacity  of  the  pecan 
groves  one-half.  And  now  it  is  proposed  to 
prohibit  by  legislative  enactment  the  destruc- 
tion of  pecan  trees. 

A  young  man  named  Swinden  came  into  the 
country.  He  didn't  bring  a  dollar,  but  he 
had  a  good  head.  He  got  a  place  as  clerk  in  a 
lumber  yard  and  improved  his  opportunity. 


A  CONCHO   COUNTY  FARM. 


of  crystal  water,  pecan  groves,  25,000-acre 
pastures  and  fertile  valley  farms.  Dropping 
down  into  the  midst  of  this  region  the  trav- 
eler might  imagine  himself,  on  a  bracing  fall 


Seeing  the  growing  profit  in  the  harvest  of 
pecans  around  Brownwood  year  after  your, 
Mr.  Swinden  reasoned  that  if  nature  could  do 
all  this  human  intelligence  could  improve  on 


-91  - 


it.  Land  in  the  vicinity  of  Brownwood  was 
cheap.  Swinden  bought  land  and  planted 
pecans.  To-day  he  has  11,000  pecan  trees 
growing.  The  trees  are  set  out  in  regular 
orchard  style.  The  land  between  the  rows  is 
cropped  in  cotton  and  grain.  Very  shrewdly 
Mr.  Swinden  has  chosen  the  location  of  the 
orchard  His  trees  are  along  the  Pecan  Creek, 
which  has  the  finest  natural  pecan  groves  in 
this  region.  The  house  in  which  Mr.  Swinden 
lives  is  on  an  elevation.  Nearly  the  entire 
collection  of  11,000  trees  is  in  view  from  the 
window. 


"when  those  trees  are  large  enough  to  bear 
half  a  bushel  to  the  tree,  it  will  be  some- 
thing. Half  a  bushel  to  a  tree  means  5000 
bushels  for  the  orchard.  Pecans  now  sell  at 
$3  and  $4  a  bushel  in  Brownwood  for  ship- 
ping. It  is  not  probable  the  price  will  be 
much  less,  for  it  takes  a  great  deal  of  time 
and  patience  to  grow  pecans.  When  Mr. 
Swinden 's  orchard  is  yielding  half  a  bushel 
to  the  tree  the  income  from  it  will  be  from 
$15,000  to  $20,000  a  year.' » 

The  fame  of  the  pecan   orchard  has  gone 
abroad.     Mr.  Swinden  receives  letters  of  in- 


Pecans  are  of  very  slow  growth.  Those  in 
the  Swinden  orchard  are  now  a  little  thicker 
through  than  a  good-sized  thumb.  The  opin- 
ion of  those  who  profess  to  know  something 
of  pecans  is  that  it  will  take  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  years  to  grow  a  tree  as  large  as  a 
man's  wrist.  But  Mr.  Swinden  is  not  dis- 
couraged. He  is  as  heartily  enthusiastic  over 
the  venture  as  he  was  when  he  set  out  the 
first  tree.  His  plans  comprehend  more  than 
the  rearing  of  the  trees.  Looking  forward  to 
the  time  when  the  trees  will  bear,  Mr.  Swin- 
den has  already  counted  his  chickens.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  labor  in  picking  up  pecans 
one  by  one.  In  Mr.  Swinden 's  orchard  ma- 
chinery will  do  it  all.  The  pecans  will  fall 
when  they  are  ripe.  They  will  be  taken  up 
from  the  gronud  by  sweeping  machines  very 
similar  to  those  used  on  streets.  Other  ma- 
chinery will  clean.  Then  the  nuts  will  be 
assorted  according  to  size  by  still  other 
machinery.  Cleaned,  culled  and  graded  the 
Swinden  pecans  will  be  put  on  the  market  in 
condition  to  bring  the  top  price.  But  when? 
Brooke  Smith,  the  Brownwood  banker  and 
capitalist,  says  he  doesn't  believe  Swinden's 
youngest  child  will  live  to  see  a  full  crop  from 
that  pecan  orchard.  "Still,"  said  Mr.  Smith, 


quiry  about  it  from  all  over  the  world.  Some 
writers  have  evidently  obtained  the  impres- 
sion that  the  pecan  trees  are  bearing  and  that 
the  orchard  is  one  of  the  get-rich-quick  ideas. 
If  it  is,  they  want  to  go  into  the  business,  and 
they  write  for  information  how  to  do  it.  Mr. 
Swinden  has  not  sold  any  pecans  from  his 
orchard.  He  has  been  able  to  eat  all  of  the 
nuts  that  the  11,000  trees  have  produced  thus 
far.  He  has  not  begun  the  manufacture  of  the 
gathering,  cleaning  and  assorting  machines, 
and  will  not  do  so  at  present.  His  first  crop 
is  in  his  mind's  eye. 


The  growth  is  slow  and  the  crop  is  far  in  the 
future,  but  the  pecan  is  a  great  stayer.  A  pe- 
can tree  has  never  been  known  to  die  of  old 
age.  Brownwood  people  say  that  pecan  trees, 
live  1000  years.  Perhaps  they  have  counted 
the  rings.  Plenty  of  moisture  seems  to  be  a 
prime  consideration  of  pecan  growth.  The 
natural  pecan  groves  near  Brownwood  and 
San  Angelo  and  all  through  this  region  hug 
the  banks  of  the  creeks  fed  by  the  living 
springs.  They  grow  so  close  to  the  banks  that 
their  foliage  shadows  the  water,  and  in  the 
nutting  season  many  bushels  fall  in.  The  pe- 
can-growing business  has  reached  the  bud- 


ding  and  grafting  stage  of  development. 
There  is  a  difference  in  pecan  trees.  Some 
trees  bear  larger  nuts  than  others  do.  Some 
yield  more  regularly  than  others.  It  is  the 
custom  to  improve  the  sprouts  by  grafting 
or  budding  from  trees  with  the  best  records. 
There  are  pecans  not  much  larger  than  a  hazel 
nut.  '"here  are  other  pecans  five  times  as 
large,  with  thin  shells  and  well-filled  meats, 
such  as  are  exhibited  in  the  rooms  of  the 
Brownwood  Board  of  Trade  by  Prof.  Carl  Vin- 
cent. 


selling  all  he  could  collect  at  30c  to  40c  a  gal- 
lon. The  oil  is  dark  olive-green  in  color. 
The  discovery  of  its  existence  was  made  at  a 
depth  of  160  feet.  The  discoverer  was  satis- 
fied with  modest  results.  Other  people  were 
not.  Companies  were  formed,  and  the 
country  around  Brownwood  is  dotted  with 
derricks  where  drills  have  gone  down  as  much 
as  1600  feet.  But  the  findings  have  been  dis- 
appointing. Oil  is  obtained  almost  anywhere 
within  fifty  miles  of  Brownwood,  but  it  oozes 
slowly,  just  as  it  did  and  does  in  the  original 


GOAT  RANCH  NEAB  SANTA  ANNA, 


The  industry  is  well  worth  cultivating.  Mr. 
Brooke  Smith,  the  banker,  considers  the  pe- 
can crop  a  considerable  item  in  Brown  wood's 
prosperity.  From  the  natural  groves  within 
the  trading  radius  of  this  place  the  farmers 
bring  in,  when  the  season  is  favorable,  sixty 
car  loads  of  nuts.  They  receive  $4  a  bushel 
for  them  from  the  shippers.  This  little  in- 
dustry distributes  $120,000  in  cash  in  the  re- 
gion tributary  to  Brownwood.  Half  a  dozen 
other  centers,  including  San  Antonio  and  Ab  • 
ilene,  San  Angelo  and  Santa  Anna,  Ballinger 
and  Coleman,  have  their  pecan  trade.  Brown- 
wood 's  pecan  crop  is  the  equivalent  of  4000 
bales  of  cotton,  which  is  about  one-fourth  of 
the  amount  of  the  staple  which  comes  to  this 
market. 


A  couple  of  years  ago  Brownwood  had  a 
great  boom.  The  people  thought  they  might 
resemble  Pennsylvania  in  something  more 
profitable  than  scenery.  The  idea  got  out 
that  the  pecan  country  was  underlaid  with 
beds  of  petroleum.  Somebody  in  sinking  a 
well  had  struck  a  flow  which  yielded  from 
five  to  fifteen  gallons  a  day.  He  scooped  it 
up,  found  it  was  good,  even  in  its  natural 
state,  and  conducted  a  neat  little  business, 


well.  No  "spouter' '  has  been  struck,  and  no 
great  body  has  been  tapped  to  encourage  op- 
erations on  a  large  scale.  There  was  great  ex- 
citement when  the  drills  began  to  pound  at 


BORING  FOR  OIL  AT  BROWNWOOD. 

Brownwood.  Real  estate  went  out  of  sight. 
It  has  returned  within  the  limits  of  ordinary 
vision.  Brownwood  people  no  longer  imagine 
they  have  another  Oil  City,  Pa.  They  are  not  so 


-93- 


proud  as  they  were  of  the  oily  taste  in  many 
of  their  wells.  They  are  trying  to  be  content 
with  the  picking  up  of  pecans,  with  the  hand- 
ling of  750,000  pounds  of  wool  and  15,000 
bales  of  cotton  a  year,  and  with  the  produc- 
tion of  fifty  bushels  of  red  rust-proof  oats  to 
the  acre. 


From  Fort  Worth  to  Brownwood,  130  miles, 
is  a  region  of  farms  of  modern  size  and  of  di- 
versified crops.  Prosperous  looking  towns  of 
from  2000  to  4000  people  dot  the  way.  Rail- 


tion  on  the  disintegration:  "I  have  had  my 
land  cut  up  into  tracts  of  160  acres,  and  it  is 
for  sale  to  small  farmers.  Any  one  who  wants 
a  quarter  section  can  have  his  choice  at  $8  an 
acre." 

The  Overall  pasture  of  25,000  acres,  owned 
and  managed  by  a  brother  of  John  W.  Over- 
all, of  St.  Louis,  joins  the  tract,  17,000  of  which 
was  sold  so  successfully  at  public  auction. 
Col.  Overall  has  declared  his  intention  of  cut- 
ting up  his  land  into  small  farms  and  of  sell- 
ing to  actual  settlers. 


SPRING  NEAR  SAN  ANGELO. 


roads  intersect  at  convenient  distances.  Three 
colleges  draw  patronage  and  supply  higher 
education.  At  Brownwood  begin  the  big 
pastures.  Beyond  Brownwood  the  towns  of 
any  considerable  size  can  be  counted  on  the 
fingers  of  one  hand.  The  railroads  run  just 
far  enough  to  tap  the  cattle  trade  and  come  to 
dead  ends.  The  big  pastures  are  doomed. 
Public  sentiment  is  strongly  against  them. 
That  isn't  all.  The  last  train-load  of  cattle 
shipped  from  Brownwood  this  season  netted 
the  owner  the  beggarly  sum  of  just  $2.70  a 
head.  A  man  who  had  a  pasture  of  17,000 
acres  cut  it  up  into  quarter  sections  and  sold 
it  out  at  auction.  He  had  500  men  at  the  sale, 
and  his  land  brought  an  average  of  $7.18  an  acre. 
The  big  pasture  men  could  stand  off  public 
sentiment  some  years,  but  the  low  price  of 
cattle  and  the  increasing  demand  for  small 
farms  is  sweeping  away  the  wire  fences. 
Brooke  Smith,  the  Brownwood  banker,  is  the 
owner  of  one  of  these  20,000- acre  pastures. 
ge  said  in  course  of  an  interesting  conversa- 


The  same  idea  has  taken  hold  of  other  pas- 
ture men  in  this  country  on  tha  Concho  and 
the  Colorado.  There  is  fascination  in  the 
ownership  of  15,000  to  25,000  acres  of  land 
all  fenced.  A  man  can  get  on  the  highest  hill 
or  peak  in  the  center  of  such  a  tract  and  shout 
with  all  his  might: 

I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey, 
and  the  remotest  echo  will  not  answer  back 
"you're  a  liar."  It  is  hard  to  give  up  such  a 
feeling.  The  pasture  men  have  tried  cattle 
and  horses  and  sheep  and  Angora  goats  in 
the  hope  of  finding  profits  that  will  keep 
pace  with  the  increasing  value  of  the  land. 
It  is  of  no  use.  A  steer  needs  about  twenty 
acres  of  land  for  twelve  months'  living. 
When  that  land  is  worth  from  $5  to  $10  an 
acre  the  steer  must  go.  So  the  pasture  man 
will  sell  out  to  the  farmer,  move  into  the 
nearest  little  city,  start  a  bank,  collect  inter- 
est on  his  mortgages  and  try  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  new  order  of  things.  This  is  evolu- 
tion in  the  Concho  country.  W,  B,  S, . 


-94- 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


Four  Miles  by  Rail  Out  Upon  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico. 


A  Bide  on  the  World's  Longest  Jetty— 
"  Some    Trade    Experiments  —The 
Wealth  of  the  Oleander  City- 
Fine  Heads  for  Finance 
in  the  Forties. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

GALVESTON,  TEX.,  September  26.  —  "In  the 
first  twenty-five  days  of  June,"  said  Mr.  Gus. 
Reymershoffer,  "we  shipped  out  22,000  bags 
of  flour  to  Havana." 

That  was  the  real  beginning  of  reciprocity 
for  Galveston.  The  Reymershoffers  are  pio- 
neering the  way  in  new  trade  relations  which 
concern  greatly  the  whole  Mississippi  Valley. 
The  experiments  under  reciprocity  have  gone 
far  enough  to  warrant  something  more  per- 
manent. Galveston  wants  new  steamship 
connections.  She  is  negotiating  now  with  a 
Philadelphia  company  to  open  regular  com- 


from  Galveston.  There  was  a  Havana  repre- 
sentative here  a  few  days  ago  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  shipments  from  Galveston. 
He  went  on  to  see  the  Fort  Worth  packery 
people,  and  then  to  Kansas,  to  open  up  a  meat 
as  well  as  flour  trade  by  way  of  Galveston. ' ' 

"Was  this  June  exportation  the  beginning 
of  your  programme  to  rush  up  the  flour  trade 
between  Galveston  and  the  countries  south  of 
you,  Mr.  Reymershoffer  ?  ' ' 

"Last  year  we  shipped  out  from  Galveston 
eight  cargoes  of  flour.  That  was  our  pioneer 
year.  The  shipments  were  all  made,  how- 
ever, from  January  to  May.  The  experiment 
was  fully  encouraging.  I  have  just  had  a  re- 
port from  our  consignee  at  Porto  Rico,  in 
which  he  says  that  out  of  1,900  bags  sent  him 
he  has  left  only  650.  We  tried  Rio  Janeiro 
with  a  small  consignment.  The  flour  took 
well,  but  the  trouble  is  we  haven't  regular 
connections.  We  need  steamship  lines.  When 
we  get  the  connections  there  will  be  no  diffi- 
culty about  taking  and  holding  the  trade. ' ' 

"This  Texas  wheat  is  said  to  be  specially 
adapted  for  flour  in  warm  countries?' ' 


THE    GALVESTON   BEACH. 


munication  with  West  Indian  and  Central 
American  ports.  Galveston  also  wants  to  get 
a  line  of  two  steamers  which  will  start  from 
here  semi-monthly  and  reach  the  south  as 
well  as  the  north  side  of  Cuba. 

"Most  assuredly  we  can  get  that  trade  when 
we  get  the  connections,"  Mr.  Raymershoffer 
said,  raising  his  voice  to  compete  with  the 
machinery  of  the  great  mill.  "That  June 
shipment  indicates  to  some  extent  what  the 
trade  will  be.  The  consumption  of  flour  in 
Cuba  is  enormous,  and  it  can  be  supplied 


"There  is  no  doubt  of  it.  Texas  wheat  is 
perfectly  dry.  Further  north  there  is  more 
moisture  in  the  wheat.  And  the  flour  from  the 
wheat  with  more  moisture  spoils  sooner  in  a 
warm  climate.  As  a  matter  of  preference,  we 
grind  Texas  wheat  until  the  crop  is  all  gone, 
and  then  we  take  Kansas  wheat.  The  Texas 
wheat  is  a  beautiful -plump  berry.  It  is  richer 
in  gluten  than  the  California  wheat.  If  we  had 
not  had  an  exceptional  spring  the  wheat  crop 
of  Texas  would  have  been  immense.  We  pre- 
fer the  Panhandle  wheat  to  any  other,  if 


we  can  get  it,  because  it  is  the  driest  and 
best." 

Turning  from  the  transaction  of  a  matter  of 
business  with  a  clerk,  the  big  miller  of  Texas 
took  up,  with  added  enthusiasm,  the  theme 
of  wheat-growing  in  Northwest  Texas. 

"That,' '  said  he,  "will  be  the  greatest  wheat 
belt  in  the  United  States.  It  will  be  greater 
than  North  Dakota.  The  region  is  larger,  and 
all  of  it  will  be  fine  wheat  country.  We  are 
getting  very  fine  wheat  over  the  Santa  Fe 
from  the  Indian  Nation  and  from  Oklahoma. 
The  conditions  are  much  the  same  as  in  the 
Panhandle.  The  wheat  is  dry  and  peculiarly 
adapted  to  trade  with  countries  south  of  us." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Secretary  Brady, 
of  the  Galveston  Board  of  Trade,  who  was 
sitting  by,  "that  I  have  a  letter  from  an  Okla- 
homa wheat  shipper  who  wants  to  form  trade 
relations  with  us.  He  writes  me:  "There  is  a 
plow  running  over  every  160  acres  in  this 


Territory  wheat  begins  moving  in  June,  and 
we  ought  to  handle  it  right  here.  We  have 
$18,000,000  capital  here  which  ought  to  be  in  use 
the  year  round,  and  will  be  when  our  grain 
trade  is  developed." 

"You  have  tried  shipping  out  wheat,  haven't 
you?" 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Reymershoffer  replied,  "I 
loaded  the  Alford,  an  English  steamer,  with 
wheat  in  ten  days.  It  was  an  experiment. 
She  arrived  in  ballast  one  day.  The  third 
day  she  came  to  the  dock,  and  the  morning 
of  the  fourth  day  I  began  loading  her.  In  five 
days  I  put  55,000  bushels  of  wheat  into  her 
hold.  She  crossed  the  bar  drawing  15  feet  3 
inches.  Three  days  were  taken  up  with  light- 
ering. She  carried  93,389  bushels.  The  experi- 
ment was  entirely  satisfactory. ' ' 

"Have  you  tried  corn?' ' 

"Yes.  People  said  corn  couldn't  be  ex- 
ported from  Galveston.  They  said  it  would 


THE  JETTY,   LOOKING  TOWARD  THE   GALVESTON  END. 


Territory.  Wheat  is  our  staple.  We  are  not 
satisfied  with  the  treatment  received  in  Chi- 
cago. Think  we  can  do  well  by  shipping  to 
your  port." 

"The  trouble  with  us  here,' '  said  Mr.  Brady, 
folding  up  the  letter,  "is  that  we  have  no  grain 
board.  There  is  no  organization  to  which  such 
a  letter  can  be  referred.  What  we  want  is  a 
regular  grain  board,  with  a  capital  to'  take 
business  offered  to  us  in  this  way.  We  have 
got  elevator  capacity  of  1,500,000  bushels,  and 
we  have  a  mill  here  that  grinds  800  barrels  of 
flour  a  day.  But  grain  business  is  new  to  us. 
You  can  talk  to  our  business  men  and  bankers 
about  cotton,  and  they  know  all  about  that. 
But  grain  handling  is  a  new  thing.  It  will 
work  in  well  with  the  cotton,  when  we  get  it 
started.  The  cotton  season  ends  on  the  1st  of 
May.  From  that  time  until  the  next  season 
opens  on  the  1st  of  September,  our  capital  lies 
idle  and  nothing  is  doing.  Texas  and  Indian 


spoil  in  transit.  We  formed  a  little  syndicate 
just  to  show  what  could  be  done.  We  char- 
tered the  Propitious— pretty  good  name— and 
loaded  73,000  bushels  of  corn  into  her.  We 
did  it  in  May,  the  worst  month  of  the  year. 
The  corn  reached  Liverpool  in  good  condi- 
tion, and  we  made  our  point.  Just  before  we 
commenced  buying  for  this  experimental 
shipment  corn  was  selling  in  Kansas  for 
14c.  It  was  being  burned  for  fuel.  Our 
agents  went  into  Kansas  to  buy.  Before 
we  got  through  the  news  of  the  intended  ex- 
portation by  way  of  Galveston  got  out,  and 
corn  went  to  20c  in  Kansas.  We  didn't  make 
any  money,  but  we  did  what  we  started  out  to 
do — showed  that  corn  could  be  shipped  in 
good  condition  from  Galveston.  It  was  New 
Orleans  which  gave  gulf  shipments  a  bad 
name.  We  had  another  test  here  on  the 
steamer  Persis  last  November.  She  took  out 
104,000  bushels.  She  had  an  excessively  rough 


-08- 


voyage,  and  was  out  forty-five  or  sixty  days, 
I've  forgotten  which.  The  report  was  circu- 
lated that  she  had  been  lost.  But  the  corn 
reached  Liverpool  in  good  condition.  There 
is  no  trouble  on  account  of  climate  about 
grain  shipments  by  way  of  Galveston.  Rail- 
roads, of  course,  are  interested  in  hauling 
the  grain  as  far  as  they  can.  When  we  get 
deep  water  we  will  command  the  trade." 


"When  we  get  deep  water,"  is  what  all 
Galveston  is  saying.  And  there  is  great  im- 
patience among  owners  of  town  lots  because 
the  outer  end  of  the  jetty  doesn't  creep  faster 
toward  the  crest  of  the  bar,  which  lies  across 
the  entrance  to  this  grandest  of  American 
harbors.  Uncle  Sam  builds  slowly,  but  he 
builds  exceedingly  well.  To  a  stranger  it 
looks  as  if  the  engineers  and  contractor  had 
made  great  progress.  Of  the  long,  narrow 
breakwater  curving  out  and  tapering  until 
its  line  sinks  into  the  sea,  there  has  been 
finished  24,600  feet.  A  railroad  track  on 
trestle  work  is  built  above  the  huge  work. 
The  little  engine  which  runs  out  over  the 
track  is  more  than  half  an  hour  making  the 
trip  from  the  shore  to  where  the  derricks  are 
hoisting  the  five-ton  blocks  of  granite  and 
placing  them  on  the  wall.  From  the  shore 
the  engine  and  cars  seem  to  be  running  on 
the  water.  Three  or  four  miles  distance 
wipes  out  the  line  of  great  rocks  with  the 
trestle  above,  and  leaves  only  in  view  the 
surface  of  the  Gulf  and  the  train  rolling 
merrily  upon  it. 


fell  below  the  five-ton  minimum.  They  were 
rejected  for  outside  work  under  the  rule  of 
the  engineers,  but  will  come  in  later  for  use 
where  the  breakers  can  not  get  at  them  with 
full  force.  The  inspection  is  rigid.  The  shore 
end  of  the  jetty  was  built  up  at  a  cost  of  $20  a 


FIVE-TON  BLOCKS  AND  THE  MACHINE  TO  PLACE 
THEM. 


foot.  Where  the  Italian  laborers  are  now 
lowering  the  granite  blocks  into  place  the  cost 
is  $80  a  foot. 

Galveston  primarily,  the  Mississippi  valley 
particularly,  and  the  whole  United  States 
generally,  are  interested  in  this  jetty  build- 
ing. Six  millions  of  the  people's  money  is 
going  down  into  the  depths  in  the  hope  that  a 
deep-water  channel  may  be  secured  for  the 
exports  and  imports  of  the  Southwest.  The 
main  jetty,  extending  out  from  the  end  of 
Galveston  Island  to  the  bar,  will  be  28,000  feet 


A  TRAIN-LOAD  OF  THE  FIVE-TON  BLOCKS. 


Out  where  the  jetty  is  being  built  now,  the 
red  granite  is  heaped  up  in  large  chunks. 
Nothing  less  than  five  tons  is  permitted  on 
this  part  of  the  work.  With  anything  smaller 
the  waves,  which  sometimes  roll  in  from  15 
to  25  feet  high,  would  play  tricks.  At  the 
shore  end  of  the  jetty  are  scattered  on  the 
sandy  waste  several  acres  of  rocks.  These 


long,  perhaps  a  little  longer.  On  the  day  that 
the  visit  was  made  with  Mr.  Hartrick,  the 
United  States  Assistant  Engineer,  the  report 
showed  24,600  feet  completed.  The  granite 
blocks  had  been  laid  to  28,700  feet,  and  the 
apron  of  the  jetty  had  reached  26,900. 

"By  October,"  said  Mr.  Hartrick,  "we  shall 
have  this  south  jetty  out  to  the  crest  of  the  bar." 


97- 


After  that  there  will  be  some  anxious  watch- 
ing for  results.  The  jetty  is  an  experiment. 
Between  the  end  of  Galveston  Island  and  the 
point  of  Bolivar  Peninsula,  Galveston  Bay 
receives  and  empties  with  every  tide.  By 
cutting  down  that  already  narrow  connection 
to  one-half  or  less  can  the  tide  current  be- 
tween bay  and  gulf  be  increased  enough  to 
wear  out  a  ship  channel  through  the  sand  ? 
That  is  the  whole  problem.  When  the  south 
jetty  reaches  the  crest  of  the  bar  the  engineers 
hope  to  know  more  about  the  scouring  possi- 
bilities. Some  minor  results  have  been  accom- 
plished. There  is,  or  was,  an  inner  bar.  The 
single  jetty  has  been  sufficient  to  increase  the 
scour  over  that  inner  bar.  There  was  9 
feet  of  water  on  the  inner  bar  before  the  jetty 
was  tuilt.  There  is  22  feet  now. 


The  south  jetty  is  only  part  of  the  plan 
Heading  out  from  Bolivar  will  be  another 
jetty,  not  so  long  as  the  island  jetty  and 
not  quite  parallel,  but  gradually  converging 
toward  it.  This  will  further  cut  down  the 
channel,  and  increase  the  current  and  the 
scour.  The  place  from  which  the  north  jetty 
is  to  start  has  been  selected,  and  the  work 
upon  it  will  be  under  way  by  the  time  the  end 
of  the  south  jetty  reaches  the  crest  of  the  bar. 
Where  the  current  is  strong  enough  there  is 
no  difficulty  in  scouring  out  a  channel.  Thus, 
where  the  Bolivar  and  Galveston  currents 
come  together  in  the  bay  there  is  a  depth  of 
60  feet  of  water.  In  a  single  year  the  current 
deposited  2  feet  of  sand  alongside  of  the 
jetty.  The  only  question  is  whether  this  con- 
fining of  the  water  will  throw  the  current  to 


THE  GULP  END  OF  THE  JETTY. 


Some  prophets  predicted  that  the  current 
confined  by  the  jetty  would  dig  out  a  chan- 
nel at  the  base  of  the  mattresses  and  rocks 
andthat  some  day  a  section  of  the  cosily 
work  would  cave  and  go  down  like  an  under- 
mined bank  on  the  Mississippi.  But  instead 
of  that  result  the  current  has  swept  the  sur- 
plus sand  up  against  the  jetty  until  there  is  a 
strip  now  in  view  where  there  was  14  feet  of 
water.  And  on  the  outside  of  the  jetty  the 
sand  is  banking  up  in  the  same  way.  The  end 
of  Galveston  Island  on  the  Gulf  side  of  the  levee 
is  growing  and  a  thousand  acres  of  land  will 
be  taken  from  the  Gulf  and  added  to  the  island 
Dy  the  jetty's  deflection  of  former  currents. 


the  right  spot  to  dig  out  a  channel.  And  will 
another  bar,  just  as  bad ,  form  further  out  in 
the  Gulf  when  the  one  against  which  the  jet- 
ties are  aimed  is  scoured  through  ?  These  are 
things  the  engineers  and  the  country  will 
know  more  about  when  the  $6,000,000  is  spent. 
The  play  is  for  large  stakes.  The  expendi- 
tures will  be  insignificant  if  the  theory  wins. 
And  this  will  be  the  longest  jetty  system  in 
the  world. 

Notwithstanding  the  impediment  of  the  bar 
a  great  deal  of  trade  comes  in  and  goes  out  of 
Galveston  with  every  tide.  This  is  the  richest 
city  of  its  size  on  the  continent.  Possibly 


Helena  will  dispute  this.  Perhaps  it  is  better 
to  say  that  millionaires  are  thicker  on  this 
Texas  Island  and  in  that  Montana  gulch  than 
anywhere  else,  not  excepting  Manhattan. 
Interior  Texas  has  sometimes  kicked,  holding 
to  the  theory  that  too  many  dollars  have 
stuck  to  the  fingers  of  the  Galveston  middle- 
men in  passing  through.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  Galvestonians  always  were  handy  at  the 
game  of  finance.  As  long  ago  as  1841  a  scheme 
which  would  have  made  the  eyes  of  a  Populist 
dance  was  concocted  on  this  strip  of  sand. 
The  author  was  Gen.  Mosely  Baker.  He  pro- 
posed a  bank.  The  basis  was  to  be  a  loan  of 
$5,000,000,  which  Gen.  Baker  thought  could 
be  got  from  France  on  an  I.  O.  U.  of 
the  infant  Texas  Republic.  The  General 
intended  to  put  the  $5,000,000,  when  he  got 
it,  into  the  bank  and  issue  paper  money.  He 
was  going  to  put  out  $3  in  paper  for  each  dol- 
lar of  this  French  credit.  The  paper  money 
was  to  be  loaned  on  notes  for  ninety  days, 
with  privilege  of  renewal  for  twelve  months. 
Almost  anything  was  good  for  collateral,  but 
Gen.  Baker  expected  to  do  his  chief  loaning 
on  cotton  in  cultivation.  Any  cotton  raiser 
could  come  into  the  bank  and  get  this 
paper  money  to  the  value  of  half  of  the  esti- 
mated yield  of  his  field,  the  price  of  cotton 


John  Allen,  of  Mississippi,  tells  a  story  of  an 
elegant  Southern  gentleman,  unused  to  the 
ways  of  the  world,  who  came  to  him  one 
day,  and  with  profuse  apologies  that  he  knew 
nothing  about  such  matters,  and  with  some 
stammering  asked:  "Ah,  Mr.  Allen,  can  you 
tell  me  how  a  gentleman  should  go  about  get- 
ting a  little  loan— a  few  hundred  dollars  say— 
from  the  bank?' '  "Certainly,  Colonel,' '  said 
Mr.  Allen,  "I  am  only  too  happy  to  be  at  your 
service.  It  is  quite  an  easy  matter.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  go  to  the  bank  and  sign  a 
note  and  give  your  collateral.  The  bank 
hands  the  money  over  to  you." 

The  old  gentleman  thanked  Mr.  Allen  most 
earnestly.  He  said  he  understood  it  now  per- 
fectly, and  felt  much  ashamed  that  he  should 
be  so  ignorant  in  business  affairs.  He  went 
away. 

"About  half  an  hour  afterward  I  met  the 
Colonel  again,' '  said  Mr.  Allen.  "He  came  up 
to  me  with  a  pained  expression  on  his  counte- 
nance, and  he  asked,  'Ah,  Mr.  Allen,  can  you 
tell  me  where  I  can  get  that  collateral?'  ' ' 

Galveston  has  managed  to  acquire 
great  wealth.  This  is  made  apparent  in  a 
collection  of  finer  public  buildings  than  is 
possessed  by  any  other  American  city.  The 
school  buildings  on  Galveston  Island  cost 


THE  SHOHE  END  OF  THE  JETTY. 


being  placed  at  8c  per  pound.  As  security  for 
the  loan  the  cotton-raiser  was  to  give  a  mort- 
gage on  his  whole  crop  and  also  a  mortgage 
on  his  land  to  double  the  amount  borrowed. 
It  is  a  great  pity  for  this  generation  that  this 
precedent  of  the  sub-treasury  idea  did  not 
have  a  fair  trial  in  the  '40s.  Besides  making 
money  accessible  to  every  man  who  had  cot- 
ton growing,  Gen.  Baker  was  going  to  pay  off 
the  Texas  Republic  war  debt  with  his  paper. 
He  expected  that  the  revenue  from  interest 
on  loans  would  pay  all  of  the  expenses  of  the 
Texas  Government  and  relieve  the  people  of 
both  the  tariff  and  direct  taxation.  Only  one 
thing  prevented  the  trial  of  Gen.  Baker's 
scheme.  France  neglected  to  advance  the 
$5,000,000  loan, 


more  than  all  of  the  school  buildings  of  Texas 
outside  of  the  cities  and  towns.  One  million- 
aire's monument  is  a  hospital,  another's  a 
chapel,  a  third's  a  high  school,  a  fourth's 
the  costliest  private  residence  in  Texas,  if 
not  in  the  whole  Southwest,  representing  an 
expenditure  of  over  $200,000.  For  private 
entertainment  it  is  doubtful  if  any  city  in 
this  country  can  show  the  equal  of  the  Garten 
Verein  with  its  spacious  grounds,  handsome 
buildings  and  lavish  appointments.  This  in- 
stitution is  maintained  by  a  club  of  Galves- 
ton's  men  of  means.  The  beach  is  every- 
body's. All  Texas  lives  from  year  to  year  on 
the  memory  of  a  plunge  in  a  surf  which  does 
not  chill  the  thinnest  blood. 

W.  B.  S. 


-99- 


THROTJGH   TEXAS. 


Strange  Sights  and  Discoveries  of   a 
Journey  in  the  Gulf  Country. 


The  Deep  Water  Triangle  and  the  Pos- 
sibilities Which  Cluster  About  It. 


A  Round-Up  of  Turtles— Balcones  Ranch 

—The  Tomb  of  Dr.  Bayard— How 

Five  Dollars  Built   6OO 

Miles  of  Railroad. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

IN  SOUTH  TEXAS,  October  19.— A  strip  of  the 
native  prairie  25  feet  wide,  a  ribbon  of  turned 
sod  6  feet  wide,  and  down  the  center  of  the 
ribbon,  straight  as  the  needle  points,  a  row 
of  pear  trees.  This,  repeated  thousands  of 


all  that  the  great  prairie,  its  sandy  loam  and 
its  sub-irrigation,  with  inexhaustible  water 
a  dozen  feet  below  the  turf,  was  good  for. 
Then  a  man  named  Stringf ellow  came  down 
from  the  North.  He  wandered  around  over 
the  prairie,  poked  holes  in  the  sod,  rubbed 
the  loam  contemplatively  between  his  fingers, 
and  said  he  thought  pear  trees  would  grow 
there.  The  few  people  who  lived  on  the 
prairie  laughed  at  him  and  said  they  had 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Mr.  Stringfel- 
low  said  he  would  try  a  couple  of  thousand 
trees  anyway.  Then  the  natives  looked  se- 
rious and  talked  as  if  a  man  ought  to  be  re- 
strained from  throwing  money  away  in  that 
fashion. 

Mr.  Stringf  ellow  went  ahead.  He  bought 
the  land  at  $5  or  $6  an  acre,  and  could 
have  got  thousands  of  acres  for  the  ask- 
ing at  that  figure.  He  put  in  his  2000  pear 
trees  of  the  Le  Conte  and  Keiffer  varieties. 
It  has  been  about  eight  years  since  the  ex- 


THE  FIH3T  HOTEL  AT  VELASCO. 


times,  is  before  the  eyes  of  the  traveler  riding1 
from  Houston  to  Galveston.  It  is  only  two 
hours  from  the  Magnolia  City  to  tho  Oleander 
City.  Much  of  the  distance  is  over  a  coast 
prairie,  50  feet  above  the  level  of  bayou  and 
bay.  From  the  car  window  the  prairie  seems 
to  be  perfectly  flat,  but  there  are  slight 
grades,  enough  for  surface  drainage.  A  few 
years  ago  this  journey  was  through  a  great 
pasture.  As  far  as  the  vision  reached 
cattle  grazed.  And  that  was  supposed  to  be 


periment  was  begun.  These  pear  trees  bore 
three,  then  five,  then  eight,  and  now  they 
havo  reached  ten  bushels  to  the  tree.  A  hole 
is  dug  in  the  ribbon  of  turned  sod,  just  large 
enough  to  take  in  the  year  old  roots.  The  soil 
is  well  packed  around  the  roots.  On  the  surface 
is  strewn  three  good  handful  s  of  cotton- seed 
meal.  That  is  all.  The  little  ribbon  of  turned 
sod  between  the  strips  of  unbroken  prairie  is 
kept  clean  of  weeds.  Soil  and  climate  do  the 
rest.  Pear  trees  flourish  as  they  do  nowhere 


^IOC- 


else  under  the  stars  and  stripes.  A  jury  of  his 
neighbors  would  have  voted  Mr.  String- 
fellow  crazy  six  years  ago.  To-day 
he  is  the  biggest  man  on  all  the  coast 
prairie.  He  is  Sir  Oracle  on  fruit.  His  pear 
trees  have  revolutionized  conditions.  The  $5 
land  is  $50  land — a  good  deal  of  it.  Thousands 


THE  SECOND  HOTEL  AT  VELASCO. 

of  acres  have  been  put  into  pears.  And  no 
wonder !  Stringf ellow '  s  orchard  was  yielding 
$500  to  the  acre  before  it  was  six  years  old. 
People  no  longer  refer  to  the  prairie  as  the  old 
salt  marsh.  Experiments  in  other  directions 
than  pear  culture  have  been  tried.  One  man 


dred  bunches  go  in  a  box,  and  the  box  travels 
1000  miles  or  more  to  some  city  in  the  still- 
frozen  North,  where  the  Ipvers  of  nature's 
sweetest  odor  quickly  pay  15c,  20c  and  25c  a 
bud.  The  grower  receives  from  $8  to  $10  a 
thousand  for  the  buds.  It  is  a  novel  industry, 
but  all  sorts  of  unusual  ways  of  making  a  liv- 
ing are  being  developed  on  the  great  prairie. 

Next  to  the  pears,  Mr.  Stringfellow,  who  is 
now  abundantly  honored  as  he  was  ridiculed 
when  he  came  on  the  prairie,  says  the  straw- 
berry is  the  surest  and  most  profitable  crop. 

He  says  this  soil  and  climate  will  give  $750 
worth  of  strawberries  to  the  acre.  Picking 
begins  the  last  of  February,  and  by  the  mid- 
dle of  March  the  harvest  is  on.  Real  estate 
men,  who  still  have  some  of  the  coast  prairie 
to  sell,  say  that  five  acres  will  support  a  fami- 
ly well;  that  a  pear  orchard  five  years  old,  as 
prices  for  the  fruit  now  rule,  and  as  trees  now 
bear,  is  worth  $1000  an  acre.  They  say  that 
the  coast  prairie  can  ship  pears  to  New  York  as 
low  as  37c  a  bushel  and  make  a  profit.  The 
prices  realized  have  been,  up  to  this 
time,  about  $1  a  bushel.  It  is  one 
of  the  odd  sights  in  Texas  to  see  these  pear 
trees  shooting  up  so  vigorously  with  raw- 
prairie  on  both  sides  of  the  rows,  and  only  the 
narrow  ribbon  of  ground  broken.  Out  in  the 


IN  THE  SUBURBS   OF  HOUSTON. 


has  two  acres  in  jessamine.  He  calls  the 
flower  the  double  jessamine.  Last  spring  he 
sold  $2000  worth  from  the  two  acres.  As  soon 
as  the  bud  appears  he  cuts  it  with  a  stem  6 
inches  long.  Ten  buds  and  stems  are  tied  in  a 
bunch  and  wrapped  in  wet  paper.  One  hun- 


plain  country,  at  Merkel,  where  everything 
luscious  grows  now  by  windmill  irrigation, 
and  where  nothing  grew  except  grass  and 
long  horns  ten  years  ago,  the  horticulturists 
tell  a  story  at  the  expense  of  the  pioneer  fruit 
raisers.  They  say  that  when  the  women  be- 


-101- 


gan  to  get  the  idea  that  fruit  could  be  pro- 
duced around  Merkel,  they  bored  holes  in  the 
prairie  with  a  post  auger,  thrust  in  an  apple 
tree,  rammed  down  on  the  roots  three  shov- 
elfuls of  fresh  stable  manure,  and  expected 


AN  OLD  SOUTH  TEXAS   HOME. 


to  make  cider  the  following  year.  This  pear 
tree  planting  on  the  coast  prairie  approaches 
the  Merkel  experiment  in  labor-saving,  but 
then,  oh,  what  a  difference  in  results! 


Somewhere  on  the  Texas  coast  there  will  be 
a  deep-water  harbor.  Government  millions 
may  make  it  or  private  enterprise  may  find 
it.  The  experiment  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Brazos  River  is  interesting.  A  city  was  laid 
out  there  among  the  beautiful  live  oaks  on 
the  1st  of  July,  1891.  The  first  lot  was  sold 
ten  days  later.  Within  six  months  there  was 
a  population  of  1,800  people.  In  July,  '91, 
guests  slept  in  a  hotel  made  of  timbers  sup- 
ported by  a  cross-piece.  In  July,  '92,  they 
stopped  at  a  house  which  cost  $75,000. 

A  corporation  took  hold  of  the  mouth  of  the 
Brazos  three  years  ago  and  ran  jetties  from 
both  sides  of  it.  The  engineer  was  a  man  who 
had  been  associated  with  Capt.  James  B.  Eads 
in  the  successful  work  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi.  He  planned  a  similar  improve- 
ment. When  private  capital  began  to  build 
these  jetties  there  was  a  bar  across  the  mouth 
of  the  Brazos  and  the  water  on  it  was  only  4% 
feet  deep.  In  just  one  year  from  the  time  of 
beginning  there  was  a  channel  of  10  feet  in 
depth  across  the  bar.  In  nine  months  more 
it  was  13  feet,  and  at  the  end  of  the  second 
year  the  depth  was  15  feet.  There  is  now  be- 
tween 17  and  18  feet  of  water,  and  steamships 
drawing  from  14  to  16  feet  go  in  and  out  of 
the  mouth  of  the  Brazos.  This  was  done  with- 
out a  dollar  of  the  Government's  money. 
Velasco  now  claims  that  a  steamship  load  of 
cotton  has  gone  out  of  her  port,  drawing- 
more  water  than  any  ship  ever  drew  before  in 
leaving  a  Texas  port,  without  lightening. 
But  Velasco  wants  24  feet  and  more. 

Houston,  Velasco  and  Galveston  are  tho 
points  of  a  triangle,  and  within  this  triangle 


lies  the  old  salt  marsh,  which  has  been  turned 
into  a  great  garden  and  orchard  as  the  result 
of  the  Stringfellow  experiment.  It  is  forty 
miles  from  Galveston  to  Velasco  across  the 
bars  of  the  triangle.  It  is  fifty-five  miles 
along  one  side  of  the  triangle  from 
Velasco  to  Houston.  It  is  fifty  miles 
along  the  other  side  of  the  triangle  from  Gal- 
veston to  Houston.  Developments  and  possi- 
bilities are  near  enough  together  here  to  be 
interesting  and  somewhat  confusing.  Some- 
where within  this  triangle,  or,  perhaps,  at 
one  of  the  corners,  or,  it  may  be,  along  one  of 
the  sides,  destiny  will  create  a  center  of  vast 
commercial  importance.  So  the  Gulf  peo- 
ple firmly  believe.  When  deep  water, 
that  is  to  say  from  25  to  30  feet,  is 
obtained,  the  exports  and  imports  of  20,000,- 
000  of  people  living  between  the  Mississippi 
River  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  will  go  by 
way  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  "Through  Texas" 
will  take  the  place  of  "via  New  York' '  for  a 
dozen  Western  States.  This  is  the  prize  of 
trade  for  which  Houston,  Galveston,  Velasco, 
Aransas  Pass  and  the  other  places  with  har- 
bor terminals  on  the  Texas  gulf  coast  are 
striving.  The  deep  water  will  come.  There 
is  no  doubt  about  that.  The  diversion  of  the 
foreign  trade  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  from 
east  and  west  lines  to  north  and  south  lines 
will  follow.  That  is  just  as  plain  as  the  first 
proposition.  But  will  the  result  be  a  concen- 
tration of  the  trade  and  all  of  its  advantages 
at  a  single  point  on  the  Texas  coast?  Is  that 
so  certain?  To  one  not  interested  in  corner 
lots  it  looks  as  if  there  may  be  a  scattering  of 
benefits  which  will  build  up  Houston,  Gal- 
veston, Velasco,  Aransas  Pass  and,  perhaps, 
two  or  three  other  possible  ports.  Ifc 
is  very  evident  that  the  wise  men  of 
this  generation  have  not  been  able  to 
agree  that  one  of  these  places,  more 
than  all  of  the  others  is  the  city  of  deep- 
water  destiny.  At  Galveston  they  are  pump- 
ing sand  from  the  Gulf  and  making  the  long; 
island  grow  in  a  way  nature  never  thought 
of.  When  the  jetties  have  done  the  work  ex- 
pected of  them  Galveston  will  have  docks 
where  the  tarpon  used  to  play.  The  creosote 
of  the  pile-treating  works  has  not  only- 
stopped  the  ravages  of  the  little  toredo,  but 
it  has  played  the  mischief  with  some  of  the 
great  oyster  beds  of  Galveston  Bay.  At  Ve- 
lasco they  are  planning  for  the  time  when 
steamships  too  long  to  turn  around  com- 
fortably in  the  bosom  of  the  Brazos  shall 
come  up  to  the  docks,  and  they  are  preparing 
for  basins  and  chutes  which  will  facilitate  the 
turning  process.  At  an  eligible  looking  place 
on  Galveston  Bay  where  the  Dickson  River 
empties,  Chicago  and  Minneapolis  capital  has 
laid  out  the  site  of  a  brand-new  city,  sixteen 
miles  from  Galveston,  thirty  miles  from 
Houston,  and  on  the  edge  of  the  great  coast 
prairie  which  is  being  cut  up  into  orchards 


-102- 


and  gardens.  Lumber  is  being  delivered 
at  the  new  site  by  the  ship-load,  and 
$1,500,000  "  will  be  spent  by  men 
who  do  not  believe  that  Houston,  Qalveston 
and  Velasco  can  take  care,  of  all  the  commer- 
cial advantages  which  are  coming  to  the  tri- 
angle. At  another  place  on  the  bay  the  man 
who  developed  the  whaleback  idea  in  ocean 
tonnage  is  seeking  a  location  for  a  great  ship- 
building yard.  Shipbuilding  is  one  of  the 
coming  industries  of  the  Gulf  region.  .  It  is 
accepted  as  a  fact  that  ships  must  be  built  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  the  temperature  where 
they  are  to  ply. 


Houston  keeps  adding  to  her  railroads  until 
a  round  dozen  of  them  center  there.  The  far- 
seeing  real  estate  men  have  laid  out  heights 
and  grand  boulevards  and  parks  for  the 
homes  of  a  hundred  thousand  people,  of 
whose  coming  they  entertain  no  skepticism. 
There  is  fascination  about  Houston  for  homes. 
When  the  landscape  gardener  comes  he  finds 
that  nature  has  left  little  or  nothing  for  him 


the  city  has  lost  its  look  of  newness.  Scat- 
tered through  the  residence  portions  of  the 
city  and  out  a  little  way  in  the  country  are 
the  old-fashioned  Southern  mansions,  with 
great  columns  supporting  the  roofs  and  the 
wide  galleries.  The  war  dealt  gently  with 
these  relics  in  the  Gulf  region  of  Texas,  and 
they  stand  to  show  what  the  South  was,  archi- 
tecturally, before  armies  marched  over  it. 
Winding  through  the  manufacturing  district 
and  among  the  railroad  terminals  of  Houston 
is  Buffalo  Bayou.  A  deep,  narrow  river  at  the 
bottom  of  high  and  steep  banks,  it  seems  to 
be  flowing  at  the  bottom  of  a  fissure.  This  is 
Houston's  waterway  to  the  Gulf.  The  bayou 
is  no  small  part  of  the  triangular  situation. 
Its  water  is  a  curious  deep  reddish  hue,  but 
so  pure  that  the  boilers  in  the  factories  last 
far  beyond  the  allotted  time. 


Houston  is  like  no  other  Texas  city.  And 
it  might  be  said  that  no  Texas  city  is  like  any 
other  Texas  city.  There  is  Fort  Worth  on  a 
high  plateau,  with  her  proportions  magnified 


LOGGING  IN  THE  PINERIES   NEAR  ORANGE. 


to  do  but  to  lay  out  the  drives  and  the  walks. 
This  is  the  magnolia  city.  The  magnolia 
trees,  6  feet  in  diameter,  are  everywhere,  and 
whether  in  foliage  or  in  bloom  they  are  won- 
derfully attractive  to  the  stranger's  eyes. 
The  suburbs  of  Houston  are  natural  parks, 
with  pine  trees  towering  towards  the  clouds, 
great  wide  spreading  live  oaks  with  the  Span- 
ish moss  garbing  their  gnarled  limbs  and 
swaying  in  the  breeze  that  blows  from 
the  'Gulf  less  than  fifty  miles  away. 
Houston  has  the  old  and  settled  look. 
Save  in  the  additions  which  have  sprung  up 
under  the  impetus  of  this  more  recent  growth, 


as  by  a  mirage,  until  she  looks  like  a  second 
Chicago  as  seen  five  or  ten  miles  away.  And 
there  is  Dallas,  nestled  down  by  the  Trinity 
and  among  the  trees,  without  any  revelation 
of  her  long  business  thoroughfares  until  the 
stranger  is  in  the  midst  of  them.  Waco,  with 
her  seminaries  and  colleges  almost  as  numer- 
ous as  her  hills,  and  cleanliness  next  to  god- 
liness in  the  form  of  a  cluster  of  magnificent 
artesian  wells  scattered  over  billowy  slopes 
rising  and  rolling  back  from  the  Brazos. 
Austin,  the  capital  city,  looks  down  from  im- 
posing heights  reached  by  gradual  ascent 
from  the  Colorado.  And  across  the  river 


—103— 


there  is  another  gradual  ascent,  on  which 
loom  up  several  of  the  State  institutions, 
until  the  vision  rises  to  a  summit  wooded 
and  rugged  almost  as  a  mountain  range. 
The  capital  of  Texas  is  a  city 
of  magnificent  views.  And  not  the  least  in- 
teresting of  her  features  is  the  great  dam, 
thrown  boldly  across  the  channel  and  raised 
to  a  height  of  50  feet,  which  suggests  daring 
on  the  part  of  the  engineer.  This  dam,  it  is 
said,  has  no  parallel  in  the  country.  It  is 
nearing  completion  and  will  have  cost  about 
$1,500,000.  For  this  expenditure  Austin  ob- 
tains 16,500  horse-power.  She  will  use  the 
dam  for  her  water  works  and  her  electric 
lights,  and  for  other  municipal  purposes,  and 
will  have  14,000  horse-power  to  lease  for  man- 
ufacturing establishments.  It  is  a  bold  scheme 
and  illustrates  the  spirit  with  which  Texas  is 
awakening  to  her  opportunities. 

Without  counterpart  is  San  Antonio.  And 
this  is  not  wholly  because  of  the  large  Mex- 
ican element  which  lives  "over  the  San 
Pedro' '  and  gives  a  foreign  air  to  population, 
streets  and  architecture.  A  few  miles  above 
San  Antonio,  reached  by  a  boulevard  100  feet 


of  this  strangest  of  rivers  San  Antonio  is 
built.  Within  the  limits  of  the  city  there 
must  be  two  score  or  more  of  bridges  over  the 
river.  In  the  days  of  early  settlement  every- 
body tried  to  have  the  river  in  his  back  yard, 
and  this  led  to  some  queer  surveying  and 
street  platting.  Water  for  all  household  pur- 
poses was  at  the  back  door,  and  a  bath  house 
was  a  part  of  the  equipment  of  every  lot.  On 
a  Monday,  the  idler  can  lean  over  a  San  An- 
tonio bridge  and  see  the  Mexican  servants  on 
both  sides  of  the  river,  as  far  as  the  view  ex- 
tends, down  by  the  river  wrestling  with  the 
family  wash. 

South  Texas  is  full  of  strange  things.  The 
strangeness  is  not  the  oddity  of  the  freak.  It 
is  rather  in  the  nature  of  surprises  in  products, 
in  development,  in  industries,  in  scenery,  in 
social  conditions.  In  South  Texas  the  trav- 
eler rides  by  rail  thirty  miles  through  one 
man's  pasture.  Within  the  limits  of  the 
pasture  is  a  city  and  half  a  dozen  settlements. 
In  South  Texas  three  distinct  crops  of  grapes 
have  been  taken  from  the  vines  in  twelve 
months.  Two  crops  is  the  regular  thing  in 
the  vineyards  below  San  Antonio.  The  Iruit- 


BALCONES     RANCH. 


Bancroft  library 


wide  and  paved  from  curb  to  curb,  the  river 
has  its  beginning  in  a  collection  of  immense 
springs.  Right  out  of  the  bosom  of  Mother 
Earth  the  water  rises.  The  pools  are  50  feet 
across.  They  are  transparent  to  the  bottom. 
Down  in  the  depths  of  vegetable  growth 
waves  and  bubbles  are  continually  arising. 
These  are  the  only  indications  of  the  inflow. 
But  from  the  lowest  rim  of  each  pool  there 
soes  out  a  stream  of  water  perhaps  as  large  as 
a  man's  body,  perhaps  equal  to  the  largest 
main  in  a  city's  water  works.  The  stream 
j  )ins  with  other  streams,  close  at  hand 
and  the  San  Antonio  River,  biggest  at  its 
birth,  starts  on  its  way  to  the  Gulf.  It  wrig- 
g-los  and  curves  until  it  almost  returns  to  itself 
in  a  dozen  places,  and  close  up  to  tho  borders 


growing  development  of  California  andFlorida 
has  been  heralded  to  the  world.  But  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  Texas  Gulf  region  in  that 
direction  are  only  just  beginning  to  be  known 
to  the  people  who  have  lived  there  all  of  their 
lives.  From  South  Texas  came  a  man  who 
built  600  miles  of  railroad  with  a  five-dollar 
bill  and  faith,  and  the  bill  was  a  borrowed 
one.  He  moved  up  from  Corpus  Christi  to 
San  Antonio  with  all  of  his  possessions 
heaped  on  a  two- wheeled  cart.  He  got  a 
charter  to  build  a  railroad  from  San  Antonio 
to  Aransas  Pass.  He  graded  a  mile  of  it, 
throwing  a  good  deal  more  than  one  shovel  of 
dirt  with  his  own  hands.  The  receiver  of  an- 
other road  loaned  this  indefatigable  builder 
enough  old  rails  for  a  rnilo  of  track.  In  a  dis- 


104- 


tant  part  of  the  State  was  purchased  an  engine 
which  had  been  condemned  six  years  before 
and  sent  to  the  shops  to  be  wrecked  for  scrap- 
iron.  Two  old  cars  were  picked  up  some- 
where else  at  a  bargain.  And  that  old  engine, 
drawing  those  old  cars,  steamed  into  San 
Antonio.  On  engine  and  cars  in  bold  letter- 
ing was  painted  in  lamp-black,  "S.  and  A. 
P."  With  one  mile  of  old-rail  track  and  with 
the  equipment  of  the  old  engine  and  the  two 
old  cars  Uriah  Lott  started  the  Aransas  Pass 
system.  There  has  been  some  tall  financier- 
ing in  the  history  of  railroad  building  in  this 
country,  but  there  isn't  anything 
which,  for  dazzling  pluck,  quite  approaches 
the  story  of  the  building  of  this  600  miles  of 
road  in  South  Texas.  To  the  one  mile  of  track 
three  were  added— three  miles  by  a  dicker  for 
some  second  hand  rails  which  a  street  car 
company  had  bought  from  a  narrow-gauge 
company.  On  this  basis  a  credit  trade  was 
made  with  a  Pennsylvania  rolling  mill  for  ten 
miles  of  rails.  When  they  arrived  there 


go  without  ever  showing  themselves  willingly 
on  shore.  The  old  idea  of  turtle  hunting  is  to 
catch  the  unwieldy  animal  napping  on  the 
sand  and  flop  him  over  on  his  back  before  he 
can  wabble  down  to  his  native  element.  But 
that  is  not  the  kind  of  turtle  catching  pursued 
at  Aransas  Pass.  Nets  like  those  used  for 
fish,  only  made  of  much  stronger  twine,  are 
strung  along  in  convenient  places  near  the 
turtle  pastures.  They  are  attached  to  floats. 
The  turtle  catcher  knows  the  hours  at 
which  the  herds  usually  seek  or  leave 
the  pastures.  He  leaves  his  camp  on 
the  beach  and  goes  out  in  his  boat 
to  a  convenient  distance  frem  the  nets,  and 
there  he  waits  and  watches  for  a  violent  agi- 
tation of  the  floats.  The  nets  are  not  set  with 
the  idea  that  they  will  inclose  the  turtle.  They 
are  stretched  out  to  cover  as  much  space  as 
possible  with  the  expectation  that,  going 
to  the  pastures  or  coming  from  them  the 
turtle  will  strike  the  net  with  his  flippers  and 
become  entangled  in  the  meshes.  Early  morn- 


THE  GREAT  DAM   AT  AUSTIN. 


wasn't  money  enough  in  the  treasury  to  pay 
the  freight.  But  it  was  got  somehow.  Ten 
miles  of  track  gave  the  foundation  for  bonds 
which  built  forty  miles  more,  and  so  the  sys- 
tem grew  into  its  present  proportions.  This 
man  Vho  built  the  Aransas  Pass  system  rode 
from  San  Antonio  to  Chicago,  at  one  critical 
period  in  his  enterprise,  without  a  cent  in  his 
pocket.  He  had  transportation ,  but  he  hadn '  t 
anything  to  buy  food,  and  he  went  through 
hungry. 


The  strangest  thing  at  Aransas  Pass  is  a  cer- 
tain live-stock  industry.  Behind  the  pass, 
upon  what  are  called  "the  middle  grounds," 
grows  a  peculiar  kind  of  sea  woed.  It  has  its 
roots  far  under  water.  This  weed  is  the  favor- 
ite food  of  the  green  sea  turtle.  There  aro 
bull  turtles  and  cow  turtles  and  turtle  calves. 
They  come  in  herds  from  nobody  knows 
where,  to  graze  fathoms  deep  on  the  tender 
ends  of  this  weed.  The7  come  and  feed  and. 


ing  is  the  best  time  for  catching.  And  the 
turtle  is  hoisted  out  of  the  tangle  and  into  the 
boat  as  quickly  as  possible.  There  is  no  dan- 
ger of  the  net  being  cut  for  the  green  sea  tur- 
tle, unlike  his  snapping  relative,  has  no 
teeth.  But  the  species  is  very  strong  with  the 
flippers,  and  may  break  some  of  the  net  if  left 
to  flounder  around  too  long. 

On  his  back  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  goes 
the  monster,  and  there  he  is  harmless  and 
helpless.  The  state  of  captivity  is  completed 
by  tying  the  flippers  across  the  under  shell. 
After  that  the  catcher  goes  on  looking  for 
more.  Unless  the  head  is  allowed  to  drop  too 
far  back  the  turtle  will  live  comfortably  a 
month  or  more  on  his  back  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  But  it  isn't  usual  to  apply  the  test 
of  endurance  to  such  a  degree.  Once  a  week 
the  turtle-catcher  hoists  sail  and  runs  over 
the  bay  to  the  store  houses.  There  are  pens 
in  shallow  water  made  safe  by  heavy  stock- 
ades of  posts  driven  close  together.  In  these 


pens  the  turtles  are  turned  loose  with  about 
the  same  freedom  that  cattle  are  given  in  the 
yards  at  a  shipping  point.  And  they  are  as 
docile  as  cattle  usually  are  when  thus  sudden- 
ly deprived  of  liberty. 

Affliction 's  sons  are  brothers  in  distress — 
in  turtle  as  well  as  other  kind.  The  turtles 
lie  quietly  in  the  pens,  with  only  an  occasional 
protest.  Now  and  then  some  monster  will 
rise  to  the  surface,  raise  his  head  and  bellow 
hoarsely.  The  sound  is  rather  awe-inspiring, 
but  really  the  only  danger  in  handling  the 
turtle  is  from  a  stroke  of  the  flippers,  and  the 
kick  is  not  very  bad.  It  is  no  easy  job,  how- 
ever, to  lift  them  about.  Some  of  the  bull 
turtles  run  up  to  650  pounds.  That  is  as 
much  as  a  yearling  Texas  steer  will  weigh.  A 
good  average  weight  is  400  pounds.  The 
turtle  calves  weigh  from  40  pounds  upwards. 


A  VELASCO  HARBOR  SCENE. 


The  turtles  selected  for  shipment  go  all  of 
the  way  to  New  York  and  other  epicurean  cen- 
ters alive.  They  are  put  into  wooden  frames 
called  crates.  There  they  lie  on  their  backs 
with  their  heads  propped  up.  The  pillow  is  a 
very  essential  part  of  the  preparation  for  the 
journey.  A  turtle's  back  breaks  more  easily 
than  one  would  suppose,  and  then  he  is  a  no 
account  turtle  for  a  long  journey.  From  thirty 
to  fifty  turtles  go  by  a  single  shipment.  They 
are  sent  to  Oalveston,  and  from  there  they 
travel  by  steamer.  People  who  pay  for  green 
sea  turtle  soup  at  the  rate  of  about  5c  a  spoon- 
ful can  figure  out  the  profit  in  a  650-pounder. 
There  is  more  profit  in  Texas  turtles  than  in 
Texas  steers.  For  four  years  Aransas  Pass  has 
been  shipping  turtles  in  large  numbers,  and 
the  herds  show  no  diminution. 

For  the  disposition  of  those  turtles  which 
are  not  sent  out  alive  there  is  a  cannery  on 
the  island.  Turtle  canning  is  as  interesting 
as  turtle  catching.  Scrupulous  cleanliness  is 
the  first  rule.  It  even  precedes  the  "first 
catch  your  turtle."  The  turtles  are  dressed 
and  then  all  of  the  flesh  is  put  into  great 
cooking  pots.  This  part  of  the  process  stops 
before  the  flesh  is  entirely  cooked.  It  is  con- 
tinued just  long  enough  to  separate  the 
divisions.  There  are  sixteen  kinds  of  meat 
in  a  turtle.  Each  kind  has  a  distinct  flavor, 
and  at  the  cannery  it  is  known  by  a  separate 
name.  It  is  called  by  what  it  most  resembles. 
ID.  a  turtle  are  found  chicken  fat,  pork  fat, 


veal,  mutton,  beef  meat,  duck,  and  so  on 
through  the  sixteen  varieties.  Partial  cook- 
ing makes  it  possible  to  divide  the  varieties. 
When  this  has  been  completed,  each  variety  is 
cut  into  small  fragments.  Experts  take  the 
cans  and  passing  from  heap  to  heap  take  from 
each  the  proportion  which  experience  has 
shown  to  be  about  right  for  obtaining  the 
true  combination  flavor.  Into  each  can  is 
dropped  a  contribution  from  each  of  the  six- 
teen varieties.  The  contents  of  the  can  are 
brought  to  the  boiling  point  and  then  the  can 
is  sealed  and  is  ready  to  carry  the  material 
for  genuine  green  sea  turtle  soup  to  any  part 
of  the  world.  With  one  of  these  cans  and  a 
pot  any  cook  can  turn  out  green  sea  turtle 
soup  on  short  notice. 


THE  TOMB   OP  DR.   BAYARD. 


In  no  Northern  cities  and  towns  of  corre- 
sponding population  can  such  costly  private 
residences  be  found  as  in  Texas.  Perhaps  an 
exception  should  be  made  of  the  East,  where 
millionaires  retire  to  their  early  homes  and 
build  palaces.  But  where  is  there  the  city  of 
20,000  people  in  the  Mississippi  Valley  with 
a  private  residence  that  cost  $200,000.  Texas 
can  show  a  dozen  homesteads  which  represent 
that  investment.  She  has  a  hundred  which 
cost  half  as  much.  As  for  the  $75,000  and 
$50,000  mansions,  they  are  to  be  found  in  all 
parts  of  the  State. 

The  peculiar  Texas  homestead  law  is  per- 
haps largely  responsible  for  this.  In  his  flush 
period  the  merchant,  the  ranchman,  the  spec- 
ulator socks  his  cash  into  the  brick  and  mortar 


106- 


of  a  home,  and  he  knows  it  will  stay  there. 
No  execution  can  reach  the  homestead,  even 
if  it  cost  a  million,  so  long  as  the  taxes  are 
paid.  A  Texas  homestead  is  $5000  worth  of 
land  in  city  or  town,  or  200  acres  of  land  in 
country,  with  all  the  improvements  there 
can  be  upon  it.  Once  paid  for  it 
can  not  be  taken  away  for  any  debt 
or  business  misfortune  that  may  come  upon 
the  owner.  To  the  Texan  who  wishes  to  lay 
by  for  a  rainy  day  or  for  heirs  the  homestead 
is  safer  than  life  insurance.  It  is  his  castle. 
The  law's  porticullis  falls  in  the  face  of  the 
creditor.  If  the  homestead  be  a  farm,  the 
growing  crops  share  the  exemption.  If  upon 
his  $5000  worth  of  city  property,  the  Texan 
chooses  to  build  a  business  block  at  the  cost 
of  $100,000  or  more  and  call  one  room  in  it  his 
dwelling  place  he  can  bid  defiance  to  all  bills 
and  judgments.  The  law  is  occasionally 
abused,  like  most  other  laws.  There  have 
been  unscrupulous  men  who  put  not  only 


PICKING  GRAPES   IN  THE   COAST   COUNTRY. 


their  own,  but  other  people's  money  into  a 
Texas  homestead  and  then  "failed.' '  But  th* 
general  tendency  of  the  law  is  to  encourage 
the  building  of  homes,  and  fine  homes,  too. 
"Here  is  something  that  can't  get  away," 
the  home  builder  says,  and  he  puts  in  the 
money  with  a  free  hand.  The  result  is  this 
unusual  array  of  costly  mansions  in  all  of  the 
Texas  cities. 

The  exemption  law  of  Texas  has  many  pro- 
visions. It  is  almost  a  blanket.  Besides  the 
home,  all  furniture  and  provisions  are  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  creditor.  Implements  and 
tools  and  books  cannot  be  touched.  And  in 
addition  to  these  the  resident  of  Texas  can 
hold,  against  execution,  five  cows  and  their 
calves,  and  two  yoke  of  oxen,  one  gun,  two 
horses  and  a  wagon,  a  carriage  or  buggy,  all 
saddles  and  harness  necessary  for  family  use, 
twenty  head  of  hogs  and  twenty  head  of  sheep 
and  the  current  wages.  This  is  a  curious  law. 
The  men  who  sell  sugar  and  flour,  meat  and 
potatoes,  clothes  and  shoes  and  other  things 
sometimes  grumble  because  they  can't  collect 


their  bills.  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  this 
is  a  great  State  for  the  poor  man.  It  is  easier 
to  accumulate  in  Texas  than  anywhere  else 
in  the  Union.  Even  the  Texas  tax-gatherer 
has  a  thus-far-and-no-farther .  line  drawn 
across  his  pathway.  Death  and  taxes  may  bo 
the  sure  things  everywhere  else,  but  in  this 
State  taxes  stop  short  of  something.  Farm 
products  in  the  hands  of  the  farmer  and  fami- 
ly supplies  for  home  and  farm  use  are  not  tax- 
able. The  sewing  machine  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  collector,  and  with  it  8250  worth 
of  furniture.  The  laws  of  exemption  from  ex- 
ecution and  from  taxation  are  very  favorable 
to  the  agriculturalist,  more  so  than  anywhere 
else  in  the  South  or  North.  This  may  explain 
why  only  9  per  cent  of  the  population  of 
Texas  is  found  in  cities,  while  in  Illinois  the 
urban  proportion  is  53  per  cent,  and  in  other 
States  from  40  to  50  per  cent. 

There  is  another  class  of  queer  things  in 
Texas.  At  Boerne  the  people  show  the  visitor 
the  strange  conceit  of  the  late  Dr.  Bayard. 
It  was  so  many  years  ago  the  Doctor  came  to 
Texas  that  nobody  can  tell  just  the  date.  He 
was  eccentric  as  long  as  the  neighborhood 
chronicles  reach  back.  By  the  occasional 
practice  of  medicine,  by  tilling  a  little  farm 
and  in  various  ways  the  Doctor  made  an  easy 
living  and  had  much  leisure.  In  his  spare 
hours  he  chiseled  out  a  tomb  for  himself  in 
the  rock.  In  the  first  place  he  dug  a  shaft,  al- 
most perpendicular.  On  top  he  placed  a  door. 
A  ladder  let  him  down  as  the  work  proceeded. 
At  what  he  conceived  to  be  a  convenient 
depth,  this  eccentric  character  slowly  and  la- 
boriously hewed  out  in  the  solid  rock  a  niche 
in  which  he  could  lie  comfortably.  For  sev- 
eral years  before  he  died  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  going  down  into  the  tomb,  stretching  him- 
self out  and  waiting  for  the  summons.  Death 
did  not  accede  to  the  hermit's  wishes.  It 
came  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  Neigh- 
bors carefully  carried  out  the  instructions 
left.  They  took  the  body  down  the  ladder, 
put  it  in  the  niche  and  cemented  the  cover. 
Dr.  Bayard,  in  an  unusual  fit  of  confidence, 
told  that  he  was  one  of  the  Bayards,  of  Dela- 
ware, but  he  never  explained  his  self- 
imposed  exile  or  accounted  for  his  peculiar 
ways. 

In  Southwest  Texas  is  the  famous  Balcones 
ranch.  It  is  a  monument  to  a  class  who 
helped  to  give  Texas  her  peculiar  reputation. 
Balcones  ranch  was  "improved"  by  a 
wealthy  Englishman  who  came  out  from  the 
old  country  with  a  pocketful  of  money  and 
his  head  full  of  ideas  of  a  good  time.  Ho  put 
on  the  raw  land  the  usual  improvements,  and 
then  he  added  a  race  track,  a  polo  ground  and 
various  diverting  institutions.  While  the 
money  lasted  and  "Me  Lud"  lived  the  fun 
was  fast  and  furious  for  everybody  who 
chose  to  come.  But  the  end  of  a  check  book 
and  of  a  fast  life  were  reached  together.  Bal- 


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cones  ranch  is  now  conducted  on  more  sober 
lines  for  what  there  is  in  it. 

Orange,  on  the  Sabine,  is  where  the  saw 
mills  are  eating  up  the  pine  logs  at  a  rate 
which  would  exhaust  a  supply  less  magnifi- 
cent than  Southeast  Texas  furnishes.  On  the 
principal  street  in  Orange  stands  a  massive 
oak  tree.  Until  a  few  days  ago  there  projecte  d 
straight  out  from  the  tree  over  the  street  a 
strong  limb  about  ten  feet  from  the  ground. 
On  one  side  of  the  Sabine  is  Texas  and  on  the 
other  Louisiana.  The  lawless  element  for 
many  years  found  it  easy  to  cross  from  one 
side  of  the  Sabine  to  the  other  and  dodge  the 
consequences  of  crime  until  the  indignation 
of  the  public  mind  had  subsided.  Twice 
Orange  lost  a  Sheriff  at  the  murderous  hands 
of  this  element.  And  twice  the  murderer  was 
brought  in  and  swung  off  from  that  oaken 
limb  so  conveniently  overhanging  the  chief 
thoroughfare  of  the  city.  On  one  or  two  other 
occasions  nature's  gallows  has  borne  fruit. 
But  the  limb  has  gone.  A  man  with  a  saw 
climbed  the  oak  tree  and  in  ten  minutes  the 
limb  fell,  while  the  city  looked  on  approving- 
ly at  the  unspoken  suggestion  that  hereafter 
the  law  be  allowed  to  take  its  course. 

When  Sam  Bass,  the  famous  stage  and  train 
robber,  died,  his  body  was  buri  d  at  the  cem- 
etery at  Round  Rock.  One  morning  the  com- 
munity arose  to  find  that  a  neat  monument 
had  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the  grave  by 
unknown  hands  in  the  night.  The  inscription 
was,  "Here  lies  a  brave  man.  Why  was  he  not 
true?' ' 

This  class  of  queer  things— the  oaken  limb  at 
Orange,  the  hurrah  life  at  Balcones,  the  career 
of  Sam  Bass  and  his  imitators,  the  Dr.  Bay- 
ards—is mentioned  to  point  the  assertion  that 
it  belongs  to  the  past  of  Texas.  It  gave  the 
State  a  reputation  for  eccentricity  and  for  gen- 
eral wild- and- woollyness.  That  reputation  is 
not  sustained  by  what  can  be  seen  now  in  a 
trip  "Through  Texas."  W.  B.  S. 


THROUGH  TEXAS. 


A  Look  Backward,  from  the  Exit,  at 
tlie  Great  Commonwealth. 


Gov.  Hogg  Coming  North— For  Capital 
and  Immigration,  "By  Gatlins!"— 
Some  Facts  by  Way  of  Com- 
parison—Mr. Exall 
as  a  Seer. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

TEXARKANA,  TEX.,  October  28.— "Through 
Texas!"  It  means  much.  Due  west  across 
the  State  from  this  eastern  edge  to  El  Paso  on 
the  Rio  Grande,  straight  as  the  crow  flies,  is  a 
longer  ride  than  from  St.  Louis  to  New  York. 
If  one  travels  over  all  of  the  railways  within 
the  borders  of  Texas  he  will  pay  $558.66  in 
fares.  So  a  railroad  man  with  a  head  for 


statistical  information  figures.  But  it  is  pos- 
sible to  get  some  idea  of  the  immensity  of  the 
State  at  less  expense.  Any  one  can  take  a 
map  of  the  United  States  and  fold  it.  Try  the 
experiment  lengthwise  first.  The  northern 
boundary  of  the  Texas  Panhandle  will  follow 
closely  the  middle  crease,  and  the  southern- 
most point  of  Texas  will  lap  far  over  North 
Dakota  into  the  British  Dominions.  More 
than  half  of  our  latitude  is  embraced  within 
the  north  and  south  line  of  Texas.  Now  fold 
the  north  way  with  Texarkana  in  the  crease. 
El  Paso's  opposite  is  out  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean 
far  east  of  Savannah  and  the  line  of  Georgia. 
Fold  again  on  El  Paso  as  the  axis.  Texarkana 
lies  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  beyond  San  Diego. 
"Through  Texas' '  is  more  than  one-third  of 
the  way  across  the  continent  from  Charles- 
ton, S.  C.,  to  Los  Angeles,  Cal. 

Take  the  map  again  and  clip  out  all  of  New 
England.  It  drops  upon  the  Panhandle  of 
Texas  and  nowhere  touches  the  border.  Add 
to  all  of  New  England  all  the  so-called  Em- 
pire State  of  New  York,  the  Keystone  State 
of  the  Union,  Pennsylvania,  that  foreign 
power,  New  Jersey,  little  Delaware,  Mary- 
land, My  Maryland,  and  the  Old  Dominion, 
Mother  of  Presidents,  Virginia.  Now  the 
broad  domain  of  Texas  begins  to  disappear. 


Just  out  of  Dallas  Mr.  Henry  Exall  has  what 
many  consider  the  model  farm  of  Texas.  He, 
however,  says  he  cultivates  only  "fairly." 
The  farm  embraces  500  acres.  This  year  Mr. 
Exall  had  100  acres  of  wheat,  100  acres  of 
oats,  100  acres  of  corn  and  200  acres  of  grass. 

"My  wheat,"  said  Mr.  Exall,  "yielded 
thirty  bushels  to  the  acre  and  my  oats  sixty 
bushels.  That  is  actual  machine  measure, 
not  estimate.  The  corn  will  go  at  least  sixty 
bushels.  It  stands  two  stalks  in  a  hill  with 
the  ears  turned  down.  I  don't  know  that  these 
crops  can  be  attributed  to  an  unusual  season. 
We  have  had  favorable  weather;  but  it  is  a 
fact,  I  think,  that  there  is  no  country  in  the 
whole  universe  which  has  the  equal  of  this 
black  land.  The  soil  is  of  peculiar  formation. 
It  is  the  combination,  in  just  the  right  pro- 
portions, of  decaying  vegetation  and  disinte- 
grating limestone.  We  have  land  here  which 
has  been  in  cultivation  every  year  for  twenty- 
five  years,  and  without  a  pound  of  fertilizer. 
It  produces  just  the  same  now  as  it  did  at 
first.  It  seems  to  have  the  inherent  quality 
of  entire  recuperation  without  any  outside 
help.  Our  land  averages  41  per  cent  of  a  bale 
of  cotton,  and  there  isn't  $5  paid  for  fertilizer 
in  the  whole  State.  In  the  cotton-growing 
States  outside  of  Texas,  the  average  is  38  per 
cent  of  a  bale  with  all  of  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  tons  of  fertilizer." 

"How  much  can  you  make  on  cotton  at 
present  prices,  Mr.  Exall  ?" 

"I  don't  raise  any  cotton.  I  have  land  be- 
sides my  Dallas  place,  in  other  parts  cf  the 


-108- 


country,  rented  on  shares.  In  wheat  and  oats 
this  land  pays  me  over  $7  an  acre  for  my  share 
of  the  crop." 

"For  what  can  such  land  be  bought  in 
Texas?" 

"The  same  character  of  land  a  little  further 
from  town  can  be  got  for  from  $10  to  $25  an 
acre.  Near  town  the  prices  are  higher.  But 
let  me  tell  you  our  land  is  held  at  only  one- 
fourth  the  price  of  land  similarly  situated  in 
the  North.  Land  in  Illinois,  for  instance,  held 
at  $40  an  acre  can  be  bought  in  Texas  for  $10 
an  acre.  This  $10  land  will  produce  as  much 
as  the  $10  land  in  Illinois.  Here  we  have  the 
advantage  of  mild  winters.  It  takes  less  to 
care  for  stock.  Food  is  fuel,  you  know.  If 
you  don't  have  to  supply  the  fuel  the  material 
goes  into  growth  and  flesh! ' ' 

"There  is  money  in  thirty-bushel  wheat 
even  at  low  prices,  isn't  there  ?' ' 

"I  don't  grow  wheat  for  wheat.  My  object 
in  sowing  is  to  have  grazing  for  my  horses.  I 
pasture  them  all  winter  on  the  wheat  and 
take  them  off  in  February.  My  purpose  is  to 
show  as  high- classed  horses  bred  here  in 
Texas  as  can  be  exhibited  anywhere  in  the 
Union.  Not  only  that,  but  I  want  to  show 
the  people  here  that  the  period  of  most  profit- 
able growth  is  youth.  I  have  yearling  colts 
and  not  sixteen  months  old  which  are  15% 
hands  high.  This  is  not  because  there  is  any 
thing  extraordinary  in  the  colt,  but  because 
he  has  had  what  he  needed.  I  don't  believe  it 
is  well  for  a  colt  to  starve  to  make  him  tough. 
Nor  is  it  the  thing  to  raise  stock  on  climate, 
as  some  farmers  do.  The  idea  in  Texas  has 
been  to  apportion  to  the  animal  so  much  grass 
for  the  year  and  then  exercise  no  discretion  as 
to  how  the  feed  shall  be  distributed  through 
the  period.  We  have  got  the  limestone  for 
which  Kentucky  claims  so  much,  and  we've 
got  milder  winters,  so  that  we  can  have  our 
colts  come  when  we  please  and  keep  them 
growing  all  the  time." 

Mr.  Exall  is  the  owner  of  Electricite,  bred 
by  Senator  Stanford  and  the  highest-priced 
horse  in  Texas.  He  has  great  hopes  of  devel- 
oping a  famous  trotting  strain  that  shall  be 
peculiarly  Texan. 

"I  wouldn't  exchange  him  for  any  other 
horse  that  lives,"  he  said.  "I  have  no  price 
put  upon  him,  but  I  wouldn't  take  $100,000 
for  him.  For  a  long  time  I  have  known  that 
the  toughest  horses  were  these  Texans,  but 
we  didn't  get  very  good  results.  The  reason 
was  that  we  didn't  have  the  proper  pedigree. 
I  believe  now  we've  got  it.  Electricite  is  one 
of  the  best  bred  colts  ever  foaled.  His  sire 
was  Electioneer,  the  greatest  progenitor  of 
trotting  stock." 

Mr.  Exall  is  not  a  Texan  by  birth;  he  is  a 
Virginian,  but,  like  a  good  many  other  Tex- 
ans by  adoption,  he  is  more  intensely  loyal 
than  the  average  native. 

"When  this  country  of  ours  had  30,000,000 
of  people  where  were  they  ?"  asked  Mr.  Exall. 
"  East  of  the  Mississippi,  weren't  they  ?  And 
when  the  population  had  swelled  to  60,000,- 
000  what  had  happened  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi ?  *  When  we  have  100,000,000  people,  where 
will  they  live  ?  Have  you  ever  thought  of  that? 
When  the  population  of  the  country  went  up 
from  30,000,000  to  60,000,000,  the  whole  region 
west  of  the  Mississippi  was  open  to  receive 
them.  Now.  when  our  population  is  to  go 
from  60,000,000  to  100,000,000,  the  only  pro- 
ductive land  that  is  open  is  in  Texas.  The 


line  of  settlement,  without  irrigation  has 
been  pushed  about  to  the  limit  in  the  West  and 
Northwest.  Texas  alone  presents  any  great 
amount  of  unoccupied  land.  You  may 
think  I  am  something  of  a  crank  on  this 
subject,  but  I  only  ask  you  to  look  at 
what  has  happened  in  the  last  thirty  years. 
Immigration  is  still  pouring  in  and  the 
country  is  growing  faster  than  ever. 
People  have  got  to  live  somewhere.  Texas 
cities  are  too  small  instead  of  too  large.  In 
Illinois  55  per  cent  of  the  population  is  in 
towns  of  over  10,000  population.  Texas  has 
9  per  cent  of  her  population  in  towns  of  over 
10,000.  The  city  of  Dallas,  with  50,000  people, 
has  1,500,000  people  within  125  miles.  No 
such  condition  exists  in  America,  where  there 
isn't  a  city  two  or  three  times  as  large  as  Dal- 
las. Yet  we  are  the  largest  city  within  500 
miles  of  us  in  any  direction.  With  such  a 
country,  such  products  and  such  opportunities 
for  immigration  there  should  be  a  city  of  200,- 
000  people.  We  shall  wake  up  here  some  day 
and  find  that  we  haven't  the  commercial 
center  to  meet  the  demands  of  trade  around 
us.  I  tell  these  people  they  don't  realize 
what  the  conditions  will  be  in  Texas  in  ten  or 
fifteen  years." 

When  people  live  as  thickly  in  Texas  as  thev 
do  in  Illinois,  this  State  w'ill  have  14,000,000 
population.  With  as  many  people  to  the 
square  mile  as  New  York  State  has  to-day, 
Texas  could  show  a  population  of  27,600,000. 
With  the  same  number  in  proportion  to  area 
that  New  Jersey  counts  Texas  would  be  sup- 

Sorting  63,800,000,  or  more  than  all   counted 
i  the  last  census  for  the  whole  United  States. 

There  will  have  to  be  some  mighty  changes 
down  here  before  Texas  realizes  on  her  possi- 
bilities. In  Dallas  the  sales  of  agricultural 
implements  amount  to  $12,000,000  annually. 
No  other  city  in  the  United  States  makes  such 
a  showing. 

Henry  Exall  said  to  John  Deere,  the  plow 
maker,  not  long  ago,  "Why  don't  you  manu- 
facture implements  in  Texas  for  Texas  trade?' ' 

"  It  isn't  any  use,"  said  Mr.  Deere.  "You 
people  will  buy  and  pay  for  the  cost  of  trans- 
portation." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Exall,  "we  are  going  to 
manufacture  implements  in  Texas." 

"That's  different,"  commented  Mr.  Deere. 
"Then  we'll  come  to  Texas  and  manufacture, 
too." 

Texas  has  everything  in  natural  resources, 
It  is  only  a  matter  of  development.  Metal  and 
wood  working  in  all  branches  will  have  to 
come.  That  there  should  be  a  haul  of  hun- 
dreds of  miles  between  the  manufacturer  and 
the  millions  of  Texas  consumers  is  not  in  the 
nature  of  things,  with  such  forests  and  such 
ore  deposits  as  there  are  here.  To-day  there 
is  a  string  of  cotton  factories  from  Denison, 
on  the  north  line  of  the  State,  to  Galveston, 
on  the  Gulf.  This  is  only  a  beginning.  Texas 
will  not  only  raise  her  own  wheat,  save  her 
bacon  and  make  her  clothes,  but  she  wi  1 
manufacture  her  own  implements  and 
vehicles,  and  roll  her  own  steel  rails,  which 
will  make  her  first  instead  of  third  or  fourth 
among  the  States  in  mileage.  It  is  in  the 
direction  of  varied  industry  that  the  future 
greatness  of  Texas  lies. 

"  We  want  young  blood  and  more  money  in 
Texas.  I  believe  I  can  assist  in  getting  both. 
As  soon  as  my  duties  will  admit,  I  am  going- 
North  to  mingle  with  the  people  and  tell 
them  what  we've  got  for  them  in  Texas.'' 
So  said  Gov.  Hogg  a  few  days  ago. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  added,  "in  a  few  months. 
when  I  shall  have  entered  upon  my  second 
term,  I  am  going  to  make  a  trip  through  the 
North,  and,  by  gatlins,  I  am  going  to  say  to 
the  people  up  there  that  their  sons  and 
daughters  will  be  as  safe  in  Texas  as  they  are 
while  walking  the  streets  of  Boston." 

W.  B.  S, 


y 


